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BERPCEIEY 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of 
CAilK)RKU 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

GIFT  OF 

Mr.  and  Mrs. 
John  J.  Nathan 


♦ 


The  History  of     «^     «^ 
e^  CiviIia;ation  in  Europe 

By  Francois  Pierre  Guillaume  Guizot. 


TRANSLATED  BY 

WILLIAM    HAZLITT 

Of  the  Middle  Temple,  Barrister-et-Law. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY.      .j»    ^    jt    ji 
J*    ^    ^      PUBLlSHERvS.  NEW  YORK 


GIFT 


» 


eg?/' 

6^ 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  M.  GUIZOT. 


On  the  8th  of  April,  1794,  three  days  after  the  bloody 
victory  of  Kobespierre  over  Dan  ton,  Camille  Desmoulins 
and  the  men  of  the  Committee  of  Clemency,  the  scaffold 
was  prepared  at  Nimes  for  a  distinguished  advociite,  who 
was  also  suspected  of  resistance  to  the  will  of  the  terrible 
triumvirate,  and  desolation  had  seated  itself  at  the  fireside 
of  one  of  the  worthiest  families  of  the  country.  A  woman, 
all  tears,  was  beseeching  God  for  strength  to  support  a 
fearful  blow;  for  the  executioner  at  that  moment  was 
rendering  her  a  widow,  and  her  two  children  orphans. 
The  eldest  of  these,  scarcely  seven  years  old,  already  wore 
upon  his  contemplative  countenance  the  stamp  of  preco- 
cious intellect.  Misfortune  is  a  species  of  hot-house;  one 
[grows  rapidly  within  its  influence.  This  child,  who  had 
no  childhood,  was  Frangois  Pierre  Guillaume  Guizot. 

Born  a  Protestant,  on  the  4th  of  October,  1787,  under 
the  sway  of  a  legislation  which  refused  to  recognize  the 
legal  union  of  his  parents  and  denied  him  a  name  and 
social  rank,  young  Guizot  saw  the  Revolution,  with  the 
[same  blow,  restore  him  definitely  to  his  rightful  place  in 
[God^s  world  and  make  him  pay  for  the  benefit  by  the  blood 
[of  his  father.  If  we  designed  to  write  anything  mo?e 
;han  a  biography,  perhaps  we  might  find  in  this  concurrence 
)f  circumstances  the  first  germ  of  that  antipathy  which  tho 
[statesman  afterward  manifested,  almost  equally  for  abso- 
lute monarchies  and  for  democratic  governments. 

f       9ni 


iv  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

After  the  fatal  catastrophe  just  related,  Madame  Guizot 
left  a  city  which  was  filled  with  such  bitter  recollections, 
and  went  to  seek  at  Geneva  consolation  in  the  bosotn  of 
her  family  and  a  solid  education  for  her  children.  Young 
Guizot,  phiced  at  the  gymnasium  of  Geneva,  devoted  his 
whole  soul  to  study.  His  first  and  only  playthings  were 
books;  and  at  the  end  of  four  years,  the  advanced  scholar 
was  able  to  read  in  their  respective  languages  the  works  of 
Thucydides  and  Demosthenes,  of  Cicero  and  Tacitus,  of 
Dante  and  Alfieri,  of  Schiller  and  Goethe,  of  Gibbon  and 
Shakespeare.  His  last  two  years  at  college  were  especially 
consecrated  to  historical  and  philosophical  studies.  Phil- 
osophy, in  particular,  had  powerful  attractions  for  him. 
His  mind,  endowed  by  nature  with  an  especial  degree  of 
logical  strength,  was  quite  at  home,  was  peculiarly  enabled 
to  unfold  and  open  in  tiie  little  Genevese  republic,  which 
has  preserved  something  of  the  learned  and  inflexible 
physiognomy  of  its  patron,  John  Calvin. 

Having  completed  his  collegiate  studies  with  brilliant 
success,  in  1805  M.  Guizot  proceeded  to  Paris  to  prepare 
himself  for  the  bar.  It  is  well  known  that  the  law  schools 
had  disappeared  amid  the  revolutionary  whirlwind..^ 
Several  private  establishments  had  been  formed  to  supply 
the  deficiency;  but  M.  Guizot,  not  caring  for  an  imperfect 
knowledge  of  the  profession,  resolved  upon  mastering  it  in 
solitude.  At  once  poor  and  proud,  austere  and  ambitious, 
the  young  man  found  himself  cast  into  a  world  of  intrigue, 
frivolity  and  licentiousness.  The  period  between  the 
directory  and  the  empire  was  a  multiform,  uncertain,  dim 
epoch,  like  all  periods  of  transition.  Violently  agitated  by 
the  revolutionary  blast,  the  social  current  had  not  yet 
entirely  resumed  its  course.  Many  of  the  ideas  which  had 
been  hurled  to  the  ground  were  again  erect,  but  pale, 
enfeebled,  tottering  and,  as  it  were,  stunned  by  the  terrible 
blow  which  had  prostrated  them.     Some  superior  minds 


OF  M.  OUIZOT.  Y 

were  endeavoring  to  direct  into  a  new  path  the  society 
which  was  rising  from  its  ruins;  but  the  mass,  long 
debarred  from  material  enjoyment,  only  sought  full  use  of 
the  days  of  repose  which  they  feared  to  see  too  soon  ended. 
Hence  that  character  of  general  over-excitement,  that  dis- 
soluteness of  morals  which  well  nigh  brought  back  the 
times  of  the  Kegency. 

The  serious  and  rigid  nature  of  the  Genevese  scholar 
sufficed  to  preserve  him  from  the  contagion.  The  first  year 
of  his  residence  at  Paris  was  one  of  sadness  and  isolation. 
He  fell  back  upon  himself,  like  all  men  who,  feeling  them- 
selves strong,  want  the  means  of  making  essay  of  their 
strength. 

The  following  year  he  became  attached  as  tutor  to  the 
household  of  M.  Stapfer,  minister  for  Switzerland  at  the 
French  court,  where  he  experienced  almost  paternal  kind- 
ness, and  had  opened  to  him  treasures  of  philosophical 
learning  well  calculated  to  direct  and  promote  his  intellec- 
tual development.  This  connection  gave  him  admission  to 
the  salon  of  M.  Suard,  where  all  the  most  distinguished 
minds  of  the  epoch  were  wont  to  assemble,  and  where  he 
saw  for  the  first  time  the  woman  who  was  destined  to  ex- 
ercise so  noble  and  beneficial  an  influence  over  his  whole 
life. 

The  circumstance  which  brought  about  the  marriage  oi 
M.  Guizot  was  somewhat  tinged  with  romance.  Born  of 
a  distinguished  family,  which  had  been  ruined  by  the 
iievolution.  Mademoiselle  Pauline  de  Meulan  had  found 
resources  in  an  education  as  solid  as  varied,  and,  to  sup- 
port her  family,  had  thrown  herself  into  the  trying  career 
of  journalism.  At  the  period  in  question  she  was  editing 
the  Puhliciste,  A  serious  malady,  however,  brought  on. 
by  excess  of  toil,  obliged  her  to  interrupt  labors  so  essential 
to  the  happiness,  the  existence  of  those  she  loved.  Her 
situation  threatened  to  become  very  critical;  she  was  almost 


vi  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

in  despair,  when  one  day  she  received  an  anonymous  letter, 
entreating  her  to  be  tranquil,  and  offering  to  discharge  her 
task  during  the  continuance  of  her  illness.  The  letter 
was  accompanied  by  an  article  admirably  written,  the  ideas 
and  the  style  of  which,  by  a  refinement  of  delicacy,  were 
exactly  modeled  upon  her  own.  She  accepted  this  article^, 
published  it,  and  regularly  received  a  similar  contribution 
until  her  restoration  to  health.  Profoundly  affected  by 
such  kindness,  she  related  the  affair  in  the  salon  of  M. 
Suard,  exhausting  her  imagination  in  endeavors  to  discover 
her  unknown  friend,  and  never  thinking  for  a  moment  of 
a  pale,  serious  young  man,  with  whom  she  was  scarcely 
acquainted,  and  who  listened  to  her  in  silence  as  she  pur- 
sued her  conjectures.  Earnestly  supplicated  through  the 
columns  of  the  journal  to  reveal  himself,  the  generous  in- 
cognito at  last  went  in  person  to  receive  the  well  merited 
thanks.  It  was  the  young  man  just  alluded  to,  and  five 
years  afterward  Mademoiselle  de  Meulan  took  the  name 
of  Madame  Guizot. 

During  the  five  years,  M.  Guizot  was  occupied  with 
various  literary  labors.  In  1809  he  published  his  first 
work,  the  Dictionnaire  des  Synonymes,  the  introduction  to 
which,  a  philosophical  appreciation  of  the  peculiar  charac- 
teristics of  the  French  language,  displayed  that  spirit  of 
precision  and  method  which  distinguishes  M.  Guizot. 
Next  came  the  Vies  des  Poetes  Fran^ais;  then  a  transla- 
tion of  Gibbon,  enriched  with  historical  notes  of  the  high- 
est interest;  and  next,  a  translation  of  a  work  of  Kehfus, 
Spain  in  1808. 

All  these  works  were  produced  before  the  author  had 
reached  the  age  of  twenty-five,  a  fact  from  which  the  char- 
acter of  his  mind  may  be  judged. 

In  1812  his  talents  were  sufficiently  well  known  to  in- 
duce M.  de  Fontanes  to  attach  him  to  the  university  by 
appointing  him  assistant  professor  of  history  in  the  Faculty 


OF  M.  GUIZOT.  vii 

of  Letters.  Soon  afterward  he  obtained  complete  posses- 
sion of  that  Chair  of  Modern  History,  in  connection  with 
which  he  has  left  such  glorious  recollections.  There  was 
formed  his  friendship  with  M.  Royer-Collard,  then  profes- 
sor of  the  history  of  philosophy — a  friendship  afterward 
closely  cemented  by  time. 

This  first  portion  of  M.  Guizot^s  life  was  exclusively 
literary.  It  has  been  attempted  to  make  him  out  at  this 
period  an  ardent  legitimist,  caballing  and  conspiring  in 
secret  to  hasten  the  return  of  the  Bourbons.  We  have 
discovered  no  fact  that  justifies  the  assertion.  By  his  wife, 
by  his  literary  relations,  and  by  his  tastes,  he  belonged,  it 
is  true,  to  a  certain  class,  who  retained,  amid  the  roughness 
of  the  empire,  traditions  of  the  elegance  and  good  taste  of 
the  aristocracy  of  the  previous  age.  A  sort  of  philosophical 
varnish  was  very  much  in  fashion  among  the  literati  of 
that  class,  whom  Napoleon  used  to  dominate  ideologists. 
They  ideologized,  in  truth,  a  great  deal ;  but  they  had 
little  to  do  with  politics.  And  it  is  well  known,  moreover, 
that  it  was  requisite  for  the  pen  of  the  Chantre  des  Martyrs 
to  devote  itself  entirely  to  the  task  of  receiving  the  well- 
nigh  forgotten  memory  of  the  Bourbons  in  the  heart  of  a 
generation  which  had  not  beheld  their  fall. 

The  events  of  1814  found  M.  Guizot  in  his  native  town  of 
Kimes,  whither  he  had  gone  to  visit  his  mother  after  a  long 
separation.  On  his  return,  the  young  professor  was  indebted 
to  the  active  friendship  of  Royer-Collard  for  his  selection  by 
the  Abbe  de  Montesquieu,  then  Minister  of  the  Interior,  to 
fill  the  post  of  Secretary-General  in  his  department.  This 
was  the  first  step  of  M.  Guizot  in  the  path  of  politics. 
Although  he  was  placed  in  a  secondary  position,  his  great 
abilities  exerted  a  considerable  influence  upon  the  ad- 
ministrative measures  of  the  time.  The  partisans  of  the 
liberal  cause  reproached  him  especially  with  having,  in  con- 
junction with  Royer-Collard,   prepared   that  severe   law 


viii  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

against  the  press  which  was  presented  to  the  Chambers  of 
1814  by  M.  de  Montesquiou,  and  also  with  having  taken  a 
seat  in  the  committee  of  censorship,  by  the  side  of  M.  de 
Frayssinous.  On  the  other  hand,  the  ultra-royalist  faction 
was  indignant  at  hearing  an  insignificant  plebeian,  a  pro 
fessor,  a  Protestant,  employed  in  affairs  of  state,  with  a 
court  abbe,  talk  of  constitutional  equilibrium,  of  balance 
of  powers;  to  see  him  endeavoring  to  conciliate  monarchical 
ideas  with  the  new  interests  created  by  the  revolution.  In 
the  eyes  of  the  one  party,  he  did  too  little,  in  the  eyes  of 
the  other,  too  much;  Napoleon^s  return  from  Elba  released 
him  from  his  difficult  position.  After  the  departure  of  the 
Bourbons,  he  resumed  his  functions  in  the  Faculty  of 
Letters;  and  two  months  after,  when  the  fall  of  the 
emperor  became  evident  to  all,  he  was  charged  by  the  con- 
stitutional royalists  with  a  mission  to  Ghent,  to  plead  the 
cause  of  the  Charter  before  Louis  XVIII,  and  to  insist  upon 
the  absolute  necessity  of  keeping  M.  de  Blacas,  the  chief  of 
the  old  regime  party,  from  all  participation  in  affairs.  This  is 
the  statement  of  the  affair  given  by  his  friends,  and  what 
seems  to  prove  that  it  was  in  fact  the  object  of  M.  Guizot^s 
mission,  is,  that  a  month  afterward,  on  his  return  into 
France,  the  king  dismissed  M.  de  Blacas,  and  pub- 
lished the  proclamation  of  Cambrai,  in  which  he  acknowl- 
edged ^the  faults  of  his  government,  and  added  new  guaran- 
tees to  the  charter. 

Every  one  knows  what  violent  storms  agitated  th6 
Chamber  of  1815,  composed  of  the  most  heterogeneous 
elements,  and  wherein  the  majority,  more  royalist  than  the 
king  himself,  constantly  opposed  every  measure  calculated 
to  reconcile  the  country  to  the  dynasty  of  the  Bourbons. 
To  say  that  M.  Guizot  then  filled  the  office  of  Secretary- 
General,  in  the  department  of  justice  under  the  Marquis  de 
Barbe-Marbois,  is  to  say  that,  while  he  conceded  much, 
too  much,  perhaps,  to  the  demands  of  the  victorious  party. 


OF  M.  G  UIZOT.  ii 

he  endeavored  to  arrest,  as  far  as  he  could,  the  encroaching 
spirit  of  the  partisans  of  absolute  royalty.  His  first  political 
pamphlet,  Bu  Gouvernement  Representatif,  et  de  VEtai 
actuel  de  la  France,  which  he  published  in  refutation  of  a 
work  by  M.  de  VitroUes,  gave  the  criterion  of  his  govern- 
mental ideas,  and  placed  him  in  the  ranks  of  the  constitu* 
tional  royalist  minority,  represented  in  the  Chamber  by 
Messrs.  Koyer-Collard,  Pasquier,  Camille  Jourdain,  and  de 
j?^erres.  It  was  about  this  epoch,  after  the  victory  of  the 
moderate  party,  the  dissolution  of  the  Chamber  of  1815, 
and  the  accession  of  the  ministry  of  the  Duke  Decazes,  that 
a  new  word  was  introduced  into  the  political  language  of 
France.  It  has  not  been  consecrated  by  the  dictionary  of 
the  French  Academy,  for  want,  perhaps,  of  ability  to  give 
it  a  precise  definition;  but  it  appears  to  us  desirable  to  fur- 
nisli,  if  not  its  signification  (which  would  be  a  difficult 
matter),  at  least  its  history. 

It  is  well  known  that  prior  to  1789,  the  Doctrinaires 
were  an  educational  body.  M.  Royer-Collard  had  been 
educated  in  a  college  of  Doctrinaires,  and  in  the  debates  of 
the  Chamber  his  logical  and  lofty  understanding  always  im- 
pelling him  to  sum  up  the  question  in  a  dogmatical  form, 
the  word  doctrine  was  often  upon  his  lips,  so  that  one  day 
a  wag  of  the  royalist  majority  cried  out  Voila  Men  les 
doctrinaires!  The  phrase  took,  and  remained  as  a  defini* 
tion,  if  not  clear,  at  all  events  absolute,  of  the  political 
faction  directed  by  Royer-Collard. 

Let  us  now  explain  the  origin  of  that  famous  canape  de 
la  doctrine,  which  awakens  ideas  as  vague  as  the  divan  of 
the  Sublime  Porte.  One  day  Count  Beugnot,  a  doctrinaire,. 
was  asked  to  enumerate  the  forces  of  his  party.  *^  Our 
party,'' he  replied,  ''could  all  be  accommodated  on  this 
canape  (sofa).''  This  phrase  also  was  successful,  and  the 
changes  were  rung  on  it  to  such  a  degree  that  the  multi* 
tude  came  to  regard  the  doctrinaires  as  a  collection  of  in- 


Xn  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETGH 

dividuals,  half-jesuits,  half -epicureans,  seated  like  Turks, 
upon  downy  cushions,  and  pedantically  discoursing  about 
,  public  affairs. 

The  reaction  consequent  upon  the  assassination  of 
the  Duke  de  Berri  is  not  yet  forgotten.  The  De» 
cazes  ministry  fell,  and  the  firmest  supporters  of 
the  constitutional  party  were  driven  from  office. 
Messrs.  Eoyer-Collard,  Camille  Jourdain  and  de  Bar- 
ante  left  the  council  of  state;  M.  Guizot  accompanied 
them,  and  from  that  moment  until  the  accession  of  the 
Martignac  cabinet,  of  1828,  his  political  life  was  an  inces^ 
sant  struggle  against  the  administration  of  Villele.  While 
the  national  interests  of  France  had  eloquent  defenders  in 
the  Chambers,  M.  Guizot,  who  was  still  too  young  to  be 
permitted  to  ascend  the  tribune,  sustained  the  same  cause 
in  writings,  the  success  of  which  was  universal.  We  can 
not  here  analyze  the  entire  series  of  the  occasional  pro- 
ductions of  M.  Guizot  from  1820  to  1822.  In  one  he  de- 
fends the  system  of  the  Duke  Decazes,  trampled  upon  as 
revolutionary  by  the  counter  revolution;  in  another  he  in- 
vestigates the  cause  of  those  daily  conspiracies  which 
appear  to  him  to  be  insidiously  provoked  by  the  agents  of 
government  for  the  overthrow  of  constitutional  institu- 
tions. Elsewhere,  in  his  work,  entitled  La  Peine  de  Morf 
MatUre  Politique,  without  pretending  to  erase  completely 
from  our  laws  the  punishment  of  death,  even  for  political 
crimes,  he  demonstrates,  in  a  grave  and  elevated  style,  that 
power  has  a  deep  interest  in  keeping  within  its  scabbard 
the  terrible  weapon  which  transforms  into  persecutors 
those  who  brandish  it,  and  into  martyrs  those  whom  it 
smites. 

Among  these  political  lucubrations,  there  is  one  which 
strikes  us  as  worthy,  in  many  respects,  of  special  mention. 
In  his  treatise  upon  Des  Moyens  d'Oppositien  et  de  Gou* 
vernement  dans   VEtat  actuel  de  la  France,  published  in 


I 


OF  M.  QUIZOT. 


1821,  M.  Giiizot  completely  lays  bare  the  nature  of  hU 
political  individuality,  and  furnishes  both  an  explanation 
of  his  past,  and  the  secret  of  his  future  career.  It  was  not 
an  ordinary  opposition,  that  of  M.  Guizot.  He  defends 
the  public  liberties,  but  he  defends  them  in  his  own  way, 
which  is  not  that  of  all  the  world.  He  may  be  said  to 
march  alone  in  his  path,  and  if  he  is  severe  toward  the 
men  whom  he  combats,  he  is  not  the  less  so  toward  those 
who  are  fighting  with  him. 

In  his  view,  the  capital  crime  of  the  Villele  ministry  was 
not  the  abuse  of  power  in  itself,  but  rather  the  conse- 
quences of  that  abuse  which  placed  in  peril  the  principle 
of  authority  by  exposing  it  to  a  fatal  conflict. 

Unlike  other  polemical  writings,  which  are  usually  alto- 
gether negative  and  dissolving,  those  of  M.  Guizot  are 
eminently  affirmative,  governmental  and  constituent.  When 
the  word  right  comes  from  his  pen,  you  may  be  sure  that 
the  word  duty  is  not  far  off,  and  never  does  he  put  his 
finger  on  an  evil  without  indicating  at  once  what  seems  to 
him  a  remedy. 

At  the  height  of  his  strife  with  the  ministry  M.  Guizot 
was  engaged  in  developing,  from  his  professional  chair, 
amid  the  applause  of  a  youthful  and  numerous  audience, 
the  various  phases  of  representative  government  in  Europe, 
since  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  in  the  course  of  lectures 
given  in  the  following  pages.  The  minister  revenged  him- 
self upon  the  professor  for  the  assaults  of  the  publicist:  the 
lectures  were  interdicted  in  1825.  Eetiring  into  private 
life,  after  having  passed  through  high  political  functions, 
M.  Guizot  was  still  poor;  but  his  pen  remained  to  him. 
Renouncing  the  inflammatory  questions  of  the  moment,  ho 
undertook  a  series  of  great  historical  works,  which  the  bio- 
grapher may  confidently  praise;  for  his  merits  as  an  histo- 
rian have  never  been  denied.  Then  were  successively  pub- 
I    lished,  the  Collection  des  Memoires  relatifs  a  la  Revolution 


iii  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

d' Angleterre;  the  Histoire  de  la  Revolution  d^ Angleterre,  en 
1640;  a  Collection  des  Memoires  i^elatifs  a  V Histoire  de 
'  France;  and  finally,  Essais  sur  V Histoire  de  France,  a 
work  by  which  he  carried  light  into  the  dark  recesses  of 
the  national  origin.  At  the  same  time  he  presented  the 
public  with  historical  essays  upon  Shakespeare  and  upon 
Calvin,  a  revised  translation  of  the  works  of  the  great  Eng- 
lish dramatist,  and  a  considerable  number  of  political 
articles  of  a  high  order  in  the  Revue  Frangaise, 

In  1827  death  deprived  him  of  the  companion  of  his 
labors — that  beloved  wife,  whose  lofty  intelligence  and 
moral  strength  had  sustained  him  amid  the  agitations  of  his 
career.  It  was  sad,  though  calm,  philosophical.  Christian, 
that  parting  scene  between  the  husband  and  the  dying  wife, 
and  their  young  son,  soon  about  to  follow  his  mother  to 
the  tomb.  Though  born  and  bred  a  Catholic,  Madame 
Guizot  had  just  before  this  joined  the  faith  of  her  husband; 
that  husband  now  soothed  the  last  moments  of  his  beloved 
partner  by  reading  to  her,  in  his  grave,  solemn,  impressive 
tones,  one  of  the  finest  productions  of  Bossuet,  his  funeral 
oration  upon  the  Queen  of  England.* 

Some  time  afterward,  M.  Guizot  became  one  of  the  most 
active  members  of  the  society  Aide-toi,  le  del  f  aider  a,  the 
object  of  which  was  to  defend,  in  all  legal  modes,  the  free- 
dom of  elections  against  the  influence  of  power.  The 
Villele  ministry  fell,  and  that  of  Martignac  restored  M. 
Guizot  to  his  professorial  chair  and  to  the  circle  of  admir- 
ing students,  whom  lie  proceeded  to  delight  with  his 
lectures  on  the  History  of  Civilization  in  France.  A 
short  time  after  the  formation  of  the  Polignac  cabinet, 
he   was   elected   deputy  for   Lisieux,   and   voted   for  the 

*  M.  Guizot,  in  1828,  married  Mademoiselle  Eliza  Dillon,  the 
niece  of  his  first  wife,  according,  it  is  said,  to  the  earnest  entreaties 
of  the  latter  previous  to  her  death. 


OF M,  OUIZOT.  xiii 

address  of  the  221,  adding  to  his  vote  these  words:  ^*  Truth 
has  already  trouble  enough  in  penetrating  to  the  council 
of  kings;  let  us  not  send  it  there  pale  and  feeble;  let  it  be 
no  more  possible  to  mistake  it  than  to  doubt  the  loyalty  of 
our  sentiments/'  He  wished  to  oblige  power  to  live,  but 
power  was  determined  to  die.  On  the  26th  of  July  he 
returned  from  Nimes  to  Paris;  on  the  27th  he  drew  up  the 
protest  of  the  deputies  against  the  ordinances — a  protest 
more  respectful  than  hostile,  manifesting  a  conservative 
spirit,  dreading  rather  than  desiring  a  revolution.  Power 
deemed  it  seditious;  the  people  pronounced  it  feeble  and 
timid:  events  proved  the  people  were  right. 

In  the  meeting  at  M.  Lafitte's,  on  the  29th,  when  all 
minds  were  intoxicated  with  triumph,  M.  Guizot,  ever 
exclusively  occupied  with  the  immediate  necessity  of  regu- 
lating the  revolution,  rose  and  insisted  upon  the  urgency 
of  at  once  constituting  a  municipal  commission  whose 
especial  duty  should  be  the  re-establishment  and  mainte- 
nance of  order.  On  the  30th,  this  commission  appointed 
him  provisional  minister  of  public  instruction;  on  the  31st 
he  read  in  the  chamber  the  proclamation  conferring  the 
lieutenant-generalship  of  the  kingdom  on  the  Duke  of 
Orleans.  During  the  period  preceding  the  ceremony  of 
the  9th  of  August,  he  was  busied  with  the  general  recom- 
position  of  the  administration  of  public  affairs,  and  the 
revision  of  the  charter,  his  organizing  activity  having 
caused  him  to  be  transferred  to  the  then  most  difficult 
post,  the  ministry  of  the  interior.  In  a  few  days  seventy- 
six  prefects,  one  hundred  and  seventy-six  sub-prefects, 
thirty-eight  secretaries-general,  were  removed  and  replaced. 
In  the  draft  of  the  new  charter,  he  endeavored,  but  with- 
out success,  to  lower  to  twenty-five  years  the  age  required 
for  eligibility  as  a  representative. 

The  first  ministry  of  July,  formed  in  a  moment  of 
enthusiasm,  was  as  ephemeral  as  the  excitement  of  the 


Xiv  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETGB 

three  days.  Personal  differences,  for  a  time  effaced  by 
great  events  and  a  common  interest,  reappeared  more 
marked  than  ever,  when  it  became  necessary  to  consolidate 
the  work  so  rapidly  effected.  The  impulse  was  still  too 
strong,  too  near  its  source,  to  be  guided.  The  principle  of 
order  was  compelled  to  yield  to  that  of  liberty;  M.  Guizot 
retired. 

The  history  of  the  Lafitte  cabinet  is  well  known.  After 
its  dissolution,  on  the  13th  of  March,  the  conservative  ele- 
ment, at  first  trampled  under  foot,  raised  itself  erects 
potent,  imperious,  in  the  person  of  Casimir  Perier.  For 
the  first  time  since  July,  a  compact,  resolute  and  dur- 
able majority  was  formed  in  the  Chambers.  This  govern- 
mental army,  hitherto  undisciplined  and  confused,  was 
divided  into  three  distinct  corps,  maneuvering  with  unanim- 
ity and  harmony,  under  the  orders  of  the  fiery  minister — 
the  left  wing,  composed  of  a  goodly  fraction  of  the  old 
liberal  opposition  of  the  Eestoration,  was  commanded  by  M. 
Thiers,  the  brilliant  deserter  from  the  camp  of  M.  Lafitte; 
the  right  wing,  formed  of  the  old  constitutional  monarch- 
ists, marched  under  the  banner  of  M.  Guizot,  the  man  of 
inflexible  and  conservative  will;  as  to  the  center,  an  aggre- 
gation of  the  undecided  and  wavering  of  all  sides,  it  was 
astonished  to  find  for  the  first  time  in  M.  Dupin,  the  most 
eccentric  and  restive  of  men,  a  chief  obedient  to  the  word 
of  command  and  eager  for  the  fray. 

Supported  by  this  triple  phalanx,  the  ministry  of  the 
13th  was  able  to  make  head  against  opposition  in  the 
Chambers,  to  overcome  insurrection  in  the  streets,  force 
the  gates  of  Ancona,  and  consolidate  the  system  established 
in  July  by  rescuing  it  from  the  exaggeration  of  its 
principle. 

After  the  death  of  Casimir  Perier,  his  captains  for  some 
time  disputed  among  themselves  the  command;  M.  Thiers 
and  M.  Guizot  shook  hands,  and  the  cabinet  of  the  lltb 


.^       OF  M.  OUIZOT.  XV 

of  October,  1832,  was  formed.  Upon  the  proceedings  of 
their  administration,  M.  Guizot  exercised  a  sustained  and 
often  preponderant  influence. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  their  acts,  there  was  one 
^  exclusively  appertaining  to  the  department  of  M.  Guizot — 
f  that  of  public  instruction — so  glorious  that  all  parties,  the 
most  hostile  to  the  man,  have  emblazoned  it  with  unquali- 
fied approbation.  The  great  and  noble  law  oi  the  28th  of 
June,  1833,  as  to  primary  instruction,  conceived,  prepared^ 
sustained  and  executed  by  M.  Guizot,  will  ever  remain  one 
of  the  grandest  creations  of  our  time:  the  principle  of 
popular  education,  adopted  and  proclaimed  by  the  Revolu- 
tion of  ^89,  but  arrested  by  the  social  tumults  of  the  last 
fifty  years,  at  last  received  its  full  development  beneath  the 
auspices  of  M.  Guizot.  Eleven  thousand  parishes,  that  is 
to  say,  one-fourth  of  France,  previously  destitute  of  that 
primary  instruction  which  makes  the  honest  man  and  the 
good  citizen,  have  seen  erected  by  the  side  of  the  humble 
parish  church,  the  modest  school-house,  where  the  chil- 
dren of  the  poor  resort  for  knowledge,  that  other  bread  of 
the  soul  which  is  to  support  them  through  the  rough  trials 
of  life.  Volumes  might  be  formed  of  the  detailed  instruc- 
tions addressed  by  M.  Guizot,  in  reference  to  this  law,  to 
prefects,  rectors,  mayors  and  committees  of  examination; 
they  are  models  of  precision  and  clearness.  The  finest  of 
t-hese  productions  is  undoubtedly  the  circular  to  the  teach- 
ers of  the  parishes.  In  its  few  pages  there  is,  perhaps,  as 
much  true  eloquence,  as  much  poetry  of  style  and  of 
thought,  as  in  the  most  admirable  works  of  the  epoch. 
With  what  touching  familiarity  does  the  minister 
stretch  forth  his  hand  to  the  poor,  obscure  village  pre- 
ceptor! how  he  elevates  him  in  the  eyes  of  all,  and  espe- 
cially in  his  own!  how  he  filb  him  with  the  importance  of 
his  mission!  He  is  almost  his  friend,  his  colleague,  his 
6QU2^II     ^^^  Hotl>  ara  Atrivinor.  ^a^h  ip  hia  anhere,  to  secure 


Xvi  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

the  repose  and  glory  of  the  country.  And  then  with  what 
paternal  solicitude  does  the  statesman,  from  the  recesses  of 
his  cabinet,  enter  into  the  most  insignificant  details  of  the 
relations  of  the  teacher  with  children,  parents,  the  mayor 
and  the  curate!  ^^No  sectarian  or  party  spirit,'^  he 
exclaims,  **  in  your  school;  the  teacher  must  rise  above  the 
fleeting  quarrels  which  agitate  society!  Faith  in  Provi- 
dence, the  sanctity  of  duty,  submission  to  parental 
authority,  respect  for  the  laws,  the  prince,  the  rights  of 
ail,  such  are  the  sentiments  he  must  seek  to  develop/' 
Can  there  be  anything  more  affecting  than  the  following 
simple  picture  of  the  painful  duties  of  the  teacher  and  the 
consolations  he  must  find  within  himself:  ^*  There  is  no 
fortune  to  be  made,  there  is  little  renown  to  be  gained  in 
the  painful  obligations  which  the  teacher  fulfils.  Destined 
to  see  his  life  pass  away  in  a  monotonous  occupation, 
sometimes  even  to  experience  the  injustice  or  ingratitude 
of  ignorance,  he  would  often  be  saddened,  and  perhaps 
would  succumb,  if  he  derived  courage  and  strength  from 
no  other  sources  than  the  prospect  of  immediate  or  merely 
personal  reward.  He  must  be  sustained  and  animated  by 
a  profound  sense  of  the  moral  importance  of  his  labors; 
the  grave  happiness  of  having  served  his  fellow-creatures, 
and  obscurely  contributed  to  the  public  welfare,  must  be 
his  compensation,  and  this  his  conscience  alone  can  give. 
It  is  his  glory  not  to  aspire  to  aught  beyond  his  obscure 
and  laborious  condition,  to  exhaust  himself  in  sacrifices 
scarcely  noticed  by  those  ^\hom  they  benefit,  to  toil,  in 
short,  for  man,  and  to  expect  his  recompense  only  from 
God.'' 

Couple  these  pages  of  patriarchal  gentleness  with  the 
pitiless  language  of  M.  Guizot  in  presence  of  a  revolt;  hear 
him  thundering  from  the  tribune  against  the  wicked  tail 
of  the  Revolution;  behold  him  reading  Bossuet  to  his  dying 
wife,  or  throwing  with  stoic  hand  the  first  piece  of  earth 


OF  M.  G  UIZOT.  xvil 

on  the  coffin  of  his  son;  and  say,  if  there  be  nofc  some- 
thing strange,  grand,  immense,  in  this  individuality,  in 
which  we  find  at  once  the  fiery  zeal  of  Luther,  the  unctuous 
mildness  of  Melancthon,  the  impassability  of  Epictetus, 
the  simple  kindliness  of  Fenelon,  and  the  inflexible  severity 
of  Kichelieu. 

After  the  existence  of  four  years,  the  cabinet  of  the  11th 
of  October  was  dissolved  by  two  causes,  one  external,  the 
other  internal.  The  public  perils  at  an  end,  it  was  deemed 
too  repressive  by  the  Chambers;  the  majority  which  had 
supported  it  was  enfeebled  and  dislocated,  while  dissen- 
sions broke  out  in  its  councils  between  M.  Guizot  and  M. 
Thiers.  The  former  retired,  but  did  not  enter  into  open 
hostilities  until  the  formation  of  the  Mole  ministry,  on 
the  15th  of  April,  1838,  the  policy  of  which  he  thus 
severely  denounced: — '^It  is  a  policy  without  principle  and 
without  banner,  made  up  of  expedients  and  pretexts,  ever 
tottering,  leaning  on  every  side  for  support,  and  advancing,  in 
reality,  toward  no  object;  which  tampers  with,  foments,  ag- 
gravates that  uncertainty  of  men.^s  minds,  that  relaxation  of 
heart,  that  want  of  faith,  consistency,  perseverance, 
energy,  which  cause  disquiet  to  the  country,  and  weakness 
to  power."  To  fortify  power,  M.  Guizot  threw  himself  into 
the  coalition.  Many  think  that  he  failed  in  his  purpose. 
We  will  not  decide  the  question;  it  is  certain  that  the 
governmental  car  was  for  an  instant  stopped,  and  the 
cause  dear  to  M.  Guizot  brought  into  peril. 

Called  upon  by  the  Soult  ministry  of  May  12,  1839,  to 
replace  Marshal  Sebastiani,  as  the  representative  of  France 
at  the  court  of  St.  James,  retained  in  that  office  by  the 
ministry  of  the  1st  of  March  following,  and  charged  with  the 
defense  of  the  interests  of  France,  in  the  stormy  question 
of  the  East,  M.  Guizot  appeared  at  first  in  London  under 
the  most  favorable  auspices.  His  literary  reputation,  his 
calm,  grave  dignity,  his  thorough  knowledge  of  English 


xviii  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

manners,  language  and  literature,  his  Protestantism,  all 
these  features  combined  to  conciliate  for  him  the  suffrages 
of  the  haughtiest  and  most  fastidious  of  all  aristocracies. 
His  society  was  universally  sought;  no  French  ambassador 
since  Chateaubriand  had  created  so  great  a  sensation.  At 
the  foreign  office,  too,  everything  seemed  to  be  smoothed 
for  him,  and  arrangements  of  a  satisfactory  nature  ap* 
peared  to  be  on  the  eve  of  completion  tvhen  the  Syrian  in- 
surrection broke  out  and  M.  Guizot^s  position  was  changed. 
The  results  of  the  treaty  of  the  15th  of  July  are  well 
known;  there  is  no  need  for  us  to  go  into  a  detail  of  the 
circumstances  under  which  the  ministry  of  March  1st  fell, 
and  M.  Guizot  was  called  upon  to  form  the  Soult-Guizot 
cabinet  of  October,  29,  1840,  himself  accepting  the  office 
of  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  which  he  retained  until 
1847,  when  he  succeeded  M.  Soult  as  head  of  the  cabinet. 
For  eight  years  his  story  is  simply  that  of  France  itself. 
In  concert  with  Louis  Philippe  he  upheld  the  system  of 
peace  at  any  price  abroad  and  of  opposition  to  democratic 
reform  at  home,  which  eventually  resulted  in  the  overthrow 
of  the  Orleans  dynasty.  He  was  driven  by  the  Kevolution 
of  1848  to  England,  where  he  published  in  January,  1849, 
a  pamphlet  entitled  De  la  democratie  en  Finance,  Soon 
after  the  establishment  of  the  Second  Empire,  M.  Guizot, 
in  1851,  ventured  to  return  to  France,  and  thenceforward, 
having  settled  himself  down  upon  his  estate  at  Val  Eicher, 
in  Normandy,  he  devoted  himself  exclusively  to  literature 
and  to  the  concerns  of  the  French  Protestant  Church,  of 
which  to  the  day  of  his  death  he  was  looked  up  to  as  the 
head.  Many  additional  works  and  many  contributions  to 
the  journals  and  reviews  emanated  from  the  pen  of  tht 
retired  statesman,  including  his  Memoirs,  the  History  of 
Oliver-  Cromwell,  Meditations  on  Christianity,  Biographi- 
cal and  Literary  Miscellanies,  etc.  In  1861  he  declared 
himself  in  favor  of  the  maintenance  of  the  temporal  power 


,  OF  M.  GTJIZOT.  xix 

of  the  Pope,  and  thus  aroused  much  discussion  in  France 
and  in  England.  M.  Guizot  was  a  member  of  three  De- 
partments of  the  French  Institute,  having  been  elected  to 
the  Academy  of  Moral  and  Political  Science  in  1832,  to 
that  of  Inscriptions  and  Belles-lettres  in  1833,  and  to  the 
French  Academy  in  1836.  In  1872  he  received  from  the 
Academy  the  biennial  prize  of  20,000  francs.  Probably ' 
the  most  widely  known  of  his  works  are  his  published  lec- 
tures on  the  Histoire  generale  de  la  civilization  en  France 
depuis  la  chute  de  F Umpire  Eomain,  Histoire  generale 
de  la  Civilization  en  Europe  depuis  la  chute  de  V Empire 
Romain  jusqu'a  la  revolution  Fran^aise  and  Histoire  du 
Gouvei^nement  representatif,  M.  Guizot  died  at  Val  Richer 
on  September  12,  1874,  and  was  buried  in  the  neighboring 
cemetery  of  St.  Ouen  le  Pin. 

M.  Guizot  may  be  considered  in  four  points  of  view — as 
a  private  individual,  as  a  writer,  as  an  historian,  as  an 
orator  and  politician. 

The  virtue  of  the  man  has  never  been  called  in  question. 
^'  The  morals,  of  M.  Guizot, ^^  said  one  of  his  most  violent 
political  foes,  ^*  are  rigid  and  pure,  and  he  is  worthy,  by 
the  lofty  virtue  of  his  life  and  sentiments,  of  the  esteem  of 
all  good  men.^' 

As  a  writer,  his  style  is  one  that  may  be  recognized 
among  a  thousand.  With  his  pen  in  his  hand  he  takes  a 
firm,  decided  tone,  goes  straight  to  his  object,  is  not 
exempt  from  a  species  of  stiffness,  and  particularly  affects 
abstract  terminology;  the  form  in  which  he  envelops  his 
thoughts  is  a  little  obscure,  but  the  thought  is  so  clear,  so 
brilliant,  that  it  always  shines  through. 

x\8  an  historian,  he  has  rendered  eminent  service  to 
science.  He  is  one  of  the  chiefs  of  that  modern  historical 
school  which  has  taught  us  to  emerge  from  the  present  to 
go  and  examine  the  past,  and  no  longer  to  measure  the 
men  and  things  of  former  times  by  our  standards  of  to-day. 


XX  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

As  an  orator,  his  manner  is  dignified  and  severe.  Small 
and  frail  in  person,  he  is  lofty  and  proud  in  bearing;  his 
voice  is  imposing  and  sonorous;  his  language,  whether 
calm  or  vehement,  is  always  pure  and  chastened;  it  has 
more  energy  than  grace,  it  convinces  rather  than  moves. 
When  he  ascends  the  tribune  friends  and  enemies  all 
open  their  ears;  there  is  no  more  talking,  little  coughing, 
and  nobody  goes  to  sleep. 

Much  has  been  said  of  the  political  versatility  of  M. 
Guizot,  of  his  sudden  changes,  of  his  former  opposition 
and  his  present  servility;  but  from  his  words,  his  writings 
and  his  acts  at  every  epoch,  we  have  derived  the  profound 
conviction  that,  save  a  few  trifling  exceptions  of  detail,  his 
general  and  distinctive  characteristic  as  a  politician  is  ten- 
acity  and  consistency;  such  as  he  was  under  the  Decazes 
ministry,  or  in  the  opposition  to  Villele,  such  as  he  appears 
to  us  to  be  now.  Let  us  explain  our  idea  without  flattery 
and  without  enmity. 

Providence  has  imposed  upon  society  an  eternal  problem, 
the  solution  of  which  it  has  reserved  to  itself.  There  has 
been,  and  there  always  will  be,  a  conflict  between  two  op- 
posite principles,  right  and  duty,  power  and  liberty.  In 
presence  of  these  two  hostile  elements,  which  the  eminent 
minds  of  all  ages  have  essayed  to  conciliate,  no  one  can 
remain  perfectly  calm,  perfectly  impartial.  Mathematical 
truths  belong  to  the  head;  people  do  not  become  ex- 
cited about  them;  political  truths  act  upon  both  the 
head  and  the  heart;  and  no  one  can  guard  himself  from 
-an  involuntary  movement  of  attraction  or  repulsion  in 
relation  to  them,  according  to  his  nature,  to  the  bent 
of  his  mind,  to  his  individuality.  Some  are  especially 
inclined  to  liberty>  others  are  more  disposed  to  power; 
some  would  play  the  minister,  others  the  tribune;  these 
have  the  instinct  of  authority,  those  the  sentiment  of 
independence.     Now.  M.  Gruizot  is  essentially  one  of  tht 


OF  M.  GVIZOi.  XXi 

latter;  his  is  an  elevated  and  progressive  intellect,  but 
domineering  by  nature  and  governmental  by  conviction. 
In  his  eyes,  the  France  of  our  day,  founded  upon  two  great 
victories  of  the  principle  of  liberty,  is  naturally  prone  to 
abuse  its  triumph,  and  of  the  two  elements  equally  neces- 
sary for  social  life,  the  feeblest  at  present,  the  vanquished 
one,  is  power. 

Setting  out  from  this  idea,  M.  Guizot  seeks  to  re-estab- 
lish the  equilibrium  between  the  two  bases  of  the  edifice, 
giving  to  the  one  what  the  other  has  too  much  of,  and 
combining  this  arrangement  of  forces  within  certain  limits, 
with  certain  measures,  the  details  of  which  are  too  long 
and  too  complicated  to  be  gone  into  here. 

If  we  read  with  attention  the  political  writings  of  M. 
Guizot,  during  the  period  of  the  restoration,  we  shall  soon 
discover,  through  all  his  attacks  upon  the  agents  of  power, 
a  real  sympathy  for  power  itself.  Legitimacy  exaggerates 
its  rights.  Pushed  on  by  imprudent  friends  and  insidious 
enemies,  it  drives  full  sail  upon  a  rock:  from  the  height 
where  he  has  placed  himself,  M.  Guizot  sees  the  danger, 
rebukes  those  who  manage  the  vessel,  and  even  after  it  has 
struck,  continues  to  exclaim,  ^^^Bout  ship  T^ 

The  revolution  of  July  discomposed,  perhaps,  for  an 
instant,  but  did  not  discourage  M.  Guizot;  thus,  on  the 
29th,  when  the  principle  which  is  the  object  of  his  solici- 
tude had  fallen  beneath  the  popular  assault,  we  behold  him 
earnest  to  raise  it  by  degrees  and  revive  its  strength,  and 
at  length  urging  it  boldly  in  the  direction  which  he 
wished  it  to  take  before  its  fall. 

What,  in  short,  is  M.  Guizot? 

He  is,  above  all,  a  man  of  power  and  of  government, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  most  independent  of  men — sub- 
missive to  the  yoke  of  self-imposed  principles,  but  bearing 
his  head  erect  in  all  questions  as  to  persons;  a  politician  of 
great  worth  and  estimating  himself  at  that  worth;  more 


xxii  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

conyinced  than  enthusiastic;  more  proud  of  the  approba- 
tion of  his  conscience  than  of  the  homage  of  the  crowd; 
gifted  in  a  supreme  degree  with  that  strength  of  will  and 
perseverance  which  make  the  statesman,  a  mortal  foe  to 
all  that  resembles  disorder,  and  capable,  if  things  were  to 
come  to  their  worst,  of  throwing  himself,  without  hesita- 
tion, into  the  arms  of  despotism,  which  he  does  not  love, 
rather  than  undergo  the  anarchy  which  ne  abhors. 


CONTENTS 


FIRST    LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  course — History  of  European  civilization — Part 
taken  by  France  in  the  civilization  of  Europe — Civilization 
a  fit  subject  for  narrative — It  is  the  most  general  fact  in  his- 
tory— The  ordinary  and  popular  meaning  of  the  word  civili- 
zation— Two  leading  facts  constitute  civilization:  1.  The  de- 
velopment of  society;  2.  The  development  of  the  individ- 
ual— Demonstration — These  two  facts  are  necessarily  con- 
nected the  one  with  the  other,  and  sooner  or  later  the  one 
produces  the  other — Is  the  destiny  of  man  limited  wholly 
within  his  actual  social  condition? — The  history  of  civiliza- 
tion may  be  exhibited  and  considered  under  two  points 
of  view — Remarks  on  the  plan  of  the  course — The  present 
sta^e  of  men's  minds,  and  the  prospects  of  civilization 1. 

SECOND  LECTURE. 

Purpose  of  the  lecture — Unity  of  ancient  civilization — Variety 
of  modern  civilization — Its  superiority — Condition  of  Europe 
at  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire — Preponderance  of  the 
towns — Attempt  at  political  reform  by  the  emperors — Re- 
script of  Honorius  and  of  Theodosius  II — Power  of  the 
name  of  the  Empire — The  Christian  church — The  various 
stages  through  which  it  had  passed  at  the  fifth  century — The 
clergy  exercising  municipal  functions — Good  and  evil  influ- 
ence of  the  church — The  barbarians — They  introduce  into 
th©  modern  worid  the  sentiments  of  personal, independence, 
and  the  devotion  of  man  to  man — Summary  of  the  different 
elements  of  civilization  in  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century 35 


xxiv  CONTENTS. 

THIRD  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — All  the  various  systems  pretend  to  be 
legitimate — What  is  political  legitimacy  ? — Co-existence  of  all 
systems  of  government  in  the  fifth  century — Instability  in 
the  condition  of  persons,  properties,  and  institutions — There 
were  two  causes  of  this,  one  material,  the  continuation  of 
the  invasion;  the  other  moral,  the  selfish  sentiment  of  indi- 
viduality peculiar  to  the  barbarians — The  germs  of  civiliza- 
tion have  been  the  necessity  for  order,  the  recollections 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  Christian  church,  and  the  bar- 
barians— Attempts  at  organization  by  the  barbarians,  by  the 
towns,  by  the  church  of  Spain,  by  Charlemagne,  and 
Alfred — The  German  and  Arabian  invasions  cease — The 
leudal  system  begins 52 

FOURTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Necessary  alliance  between  facts  and 
doctrines — Preponderance  of  the  country  over  the  towns— 
Oi'ganization  of  a  small  feudal  society — Influence  of  feudal, 
ism  upon  the  character  of  the  possessor  of  the  fief,  and 
upon  the  spirit  of  family — Hatred  of  the  people  toward 
the  feudal  system — The  priest  could  do  little  for  the 
serfs  —  Impossibility  of  regularly  organizing  feudalism : 
1.  No  povv^erful  authority;  2.  No  public  power;  3.  DiflS- 
culty  of  the  federative  system — The  idea  of  the  right  of 
resistance  inherent  in  feudalism — Influence  of  feudalism 
favorable  to  the  development  of  the  individual,  unfavor- 
able to  social  order 74 

FIFTH  LECTURE. 

C»bject  of  the  lecture — Religion  is  a  principle  of  association^ 
Constraint  is  not  of  the  essence  of  government — Conditions 
of  the  legitimacy  of  a  government:  1.  The  power  must  be  in 
the  hands  of  the  most  worthy;  2.  The  liberty  of  the  gov- 
erned must  be  respected — The  church  being  a  corporatior 
and  not  a  caste,  fulfilled  the  first  of  these  conditions — O. 
the  various  methods  of  nomination  and  election  that  ex- 
isted therein— *It  wanted  the  other  condition,  on  account 
of  the  illegitimate    extension  of  authority,  and  on  account 


CONTENTS.  XXV 

Pags. 
of  the  abusive  employment  of  force — Movement  and  liberty 
of  spirit  in  the  bosom  of  the  church — Relations  of  the 
church  with  princes — The  independence  of  spiritual  power 
laid  down  as  a  principle — Pretensions  and  efforts  of  the 
church  to  usurp  the  temporal  power 99 

SIXTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Separation  of  the  governing  and  the  gov- 
erned party  in  the  church — Indirect  influence  of  the  laity 
upon  the  clergy — The  clergy  recruited  from  all  conditions 
of  society — Influence  of  the  church  upon  the  public  order 
and  upon  legislation — The  penitential  system — The  devel- 
opment of  the  human  mind  is  entirely  theological — The 
church  usually  ranges  itself  on  the  side  of  power — Not 
to  be  wondered  at ;  the  aim  of  religions  is  to  regulate 
human  liberty — Different  states  of  the  church,  from  the 
fifth  to  the  twelfth  century — 1st.  The  imperial  church — 
2d.  The  barbaric  church;  development  of  the  separating 
principle  of  the  two  powers;  the  monastic  order — 3d.  The 
feudal  church;  attempts  at  organization;  want  of  reform; 
Gregory  VII — The  theocratical  church — Regeneration  of  the 
spirit  of  inquiry;  Abailard — Movement  of  the  boroughs — 
No  connection  between  these  two  facts 123 

SEVENTH    LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Comparative  picture  of  the  state  of  the 
boroughs  at  the  twelfth  and  the  eighteenth  century — Double 
question — 1st.  The  enfranchisement  of  the  boroughs — State 
of  the  towns  from  the  fifth  to  the  tenth  century — Their 
decay  and  regeneration — Communal  insurrection — Charters — 
Social  and  moral  effects  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the  bor- 
oughs— 2d.  Internal  government  of  the  boroughs — Assem- 
blies of  the  people — Magistrates — High  and  low  burgher- 
ship — Diversity  of  the  state  of  the  boroughs  in  the  different 
countries  of  Europe I4ll 

EIGHTH  LECTURE. 
Object  of  the  lecture — Glance  at  the  general  history  of  European 


xxvi  CONTENTS. 

Pagb. 

civilization — Its  distinctive  and  fundamental  character — 
Epoch  at  which  that  character  began  to  appear — State  of 
Europe  from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century — Character 
of  the  crusades — Their  moral  and  social  causes — These 
causes  no  longer  existed  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury— Effects  of  the  crusades  upon  civilization 174 

NINTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Important  part  taken  by  royalty  in  the  his- 
tory of  Europe,  and  in  the  history  of  the  world — True  causes 
of  this  importance — Two-fold  point  of  view  under  which  the 
institution  of  royalty  should  be  considered — 1st.  Its  true 
and  permanent  nature — It  is  the  personification  of  the  sov- 
ereignty of  right — With  what  limits — 2d.  Its  flexibility 
and  diversity — European  royalty  seems  to  be  the  result  of 
various  kinds  of  royalty — Of  barbarian  royalty — Of  impe- 
rial royalty — Of  religious  royalty — Of  feudal  royalty — Of 
modern  royalty,  properly  so  called,  and  of  its  true  char- 
acter  194 

TENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Attempts  to  reconcile  the  various  social 
elements  of  modern  Europe,  and  to  make  them  live  and  act 
in  common,  in  one  society,  and  under  one  central  power — 1st. 
Attempt  at  theocratical  organization — Why  it  failed — Four 
principal  obstacles — Faults  of  Gregory  VII — Reaction 
against  the  domination  of  the  church — On  the  part 
Df  the  people — On  the  part  of  the  sovereigns — 2d. 
Attempt  at  republican  organization — Italian  republics — 
Their  defects— Towns  in  the  south  of  France — Crusade  of 
the  Albigenses — Swiss  confederation — Boroughs  of  Flanders 
and  the  Rhine — Hanseatic  league — Struggle  between  the 
feudal  nobility  and  the  boroughs — 3d.  Attempt  at  a  mixed 
organization — States-general  of  France — Cortes  of  Spain  and 
Portugal — English  Parliament — Peculiar  state  of  Germany — 
111  success  of  all  their  attempts — From  what  causes — General 
tendency  of  Europe .214 


CONTENTS.  xxvii 

^     '  ELEVENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Special  character  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
JK  tury — Progressive  centralization  of  nations  and  govern- 
ments— 1st.  Of  France — Formation  of  the  national  French 
spirit — Government  of  Louis  XI — 2d.  Of  Spain — 3d.  Of 
Germany— 4th.  Of  England — 5th.  Of  Italy — Origin  of  the! 
external  relations  of  states  and  of  diplomacy — Movement 
in  religious  ideas — Attempt  at  aristocratical  reform — Coun- 
cil of  Constance  and  Basle — Attempt  at  popular  reform-- 
John  Huss — Regeneration  of  literature — Admiration  for  an- 
tiquity— Classical  school,  or  free-thinkers — General  activ- 
ity— Voyages,  discoveries,  inventi<ms — Conclusion 239 

TWELFTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Diflficulty  of  distinguishing  general  facts 
m  modern  history — Picture  of  Europe  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury— Danger  of  precipitate  generalization — Various  causes 
assigned  to  the  Reformation — Its  dominant  character  was 
the  insurrection  of  the  human  mind  against  absolute  power 
in  the  intellectual  order — Evidences  of  this  fact — Fate  of  the 
Reformation  in  different  countries — Weak  side  of  the  Refor- 
mation— The  Jesuits — Analogy  between  the  revolutions  of 
religious  society  and  those  of  civil  society 256 

THIRTEENTH  LECTURR 

Clyjeet  of  the  lecture — General  character  of  the  English  revolu- 
tion— Its  principal  causes — It  was  more  political  than  re- 
ligious— The  three  great  parties  in  it:  1.  The  party  of  legal 
reform;  2.  The  party  of  the  political  revolution;  3.    The 

party  of  the  social  revolution — They  all  fail — Cromwell 

The  restoration  of  the   Stuarts — The  legal  ministry — The 
,   profligate  ministry — The  revolution  of  1688  in  England  and 
Europe 2T3 

FOURTEENTH    LECTURi:i. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Difference  and  likeness  between  the  pro- 
gress of  civilization  in  England  and  on  the  Continent — Pre- 
ponderance of  Franoe  in  Europe  in    the   seventeenth  and 


xxviii  CONTENTS. 

eighteenth  centuries — In  the  seventeenth  century  hy  reason 
of  the  French  government — In  the  eighteenth  by  reason  of 
the  country  itself — Of  the  government  of  Louis  XIV — Of  his 
wars — Of  his  diplomacy — Of  his  administration — Of  his  leg- 
islation— Causes  of  Ins  rapid  decline — Of  France  in  the 
eighteenth  century — Essential  characteristics  of  the  philo- 
sophical reYolutioik — Condusiou  of  the  course •  • . .  •  <  .298 


HISTORY 


OP 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE, 


LECTURE  THE  FIRST. 

Object  of  the  course — History  of  European  civilization — Part  taken 
by  France  in  the  civilization  of  Europe — Civilization  a  fit  subject 
for  narrative — It  is  the  most  general  fact  in  history — The  ordinary 
and  popular  meaning  of  the  word  civilization — Two  leading  facts 
constitute  civilization:  1.  The  development  of  society;'  2.  The 
development  of  the  individual — Demonstration — These  two  facts 
are  necessarily  connected  the  one  with  the  other,  and  sooner  or 
later  the  one  produces  the  other — Is  the  destiny  of  man  limited 
wholly  within  his  actual  social  condition  ? — The  history  of  civili- 
zation may  be  exhibited  and  considered  under  two  points  of 
view — Remarks  on  the  plan  of  the  course — The  present  state  of 
men's  minds,  and  the  prospects  of  civilization. 

Gentlemen^: — 

I  AM  deeply  affected  by  the  reception  you  give  me, 
and  which,  you  will  permit  me  to  say,  I  accept  as  a  pledge 
of  the  sympathy  which  has  not  ceased  to  exist  between  us, 
notwithstanding  so  long  a  separation.  Alas!  I  speak  as 
though  you,  whom  I  see  around  me,  were  the  same  who, 
seven  years  ago,  used  to  assemble  within  these  walls,  to 
participate  in  my  then  labors;  because  I  myself  am  here 
again,  it  seems  as  if  all  my  former  hearers  should  be  here 
also;    whereas,   since  that    period,   a    change,   a    mighty 


2  HISTORY  OF 

change,  has  come  over  all  things.  Seven  years  ago  we  re- 
paired hither,  depressed  with  anxious  doubts  and  fears, 
weighed  down  with  sad  thoughts  and  anticipations;  we  saw 
ourselves  surrounded  with  difficulty  and  danger;  we  felt 
ourselves  dragged  on  toward  an  evil  which  we  essayed  to 
avert  by  calm,  grave,  cautious  reserve,  but  in  vain.  Now, 
we  meet  together,  full  of  confidence  and  hope,  the  heart  at 
peace,  thought  free.  There  is  but  one  way  in  which  we 
can  worthily  manifest  our  gratitude  for  this  happy  change; 
it  is  bringing  to  our  present  meetings,  our  new  studies,  the 
same  calm  tranquillity  of  mind,  the  same  firm  purpose, 
which  guided  our  conduct  when,  seven  years  ago,  we  looked, 
from  day  to  day,  to  have  our  studies  placed  under  rigorous 
supervision,  or,  indeed,  to  be  arbitrarily  suspended.  Good 
fortune  is  delicate,  frail,  uncertain;  we  must  keep  measures 
with  hope  as  with  fear;  convalescence  requires  well  nigh  the 
same  care,  the  same  caution,  as  the  approaches  of  illness. 
This  cVe,  this  caution,  this  moderation,  I  am  sure  you  will 
exhibit.  The  same  sympathy,  the  same  intimate  conform- 
ity of  opinions,  of  sentiments,  of  ideas,  which  united  us  in 
times  of  difficulty  and  danger,  and  which  at  least  saved  us 
from  grave  faults,  will  equally  unite  us  in  more  auspicious 
days,  and  enable  us  to  gather  all  their  fruits.  I  rely  with 
confidence  upon  your  cooperation,  and  I  need  nothing 
more. 

The  time  between  this  our  first  meeting  and  the  close  of 
the  year  is  very  limited;  that  which  I  myself  have  had, 
wherein  to  meditate  upon  the  Lectures  1  am  about  to  de- 
liver, has  been  infinitely  more  limited  still.  One  great 
point,  therefore,  was  the  selection  of  a  subject,  the  con- 
sideration of  which  might  best  be  brought  within  the 
bounds  of  the  few  months  which  remain  to  us  of  this  year, 
within  that  of  the  few  days  I  have  had  for  preparation; 
and  it  appeared  to  me  that  a  general  review  of  the  modern 
history  of  Europe,  considered  with  reference  to  the  devel- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  Zi, 

opment  of  civilization — a  general  sketch,  in  fact,  of  the 
history  of  European  civilization,  of  its  origin,  its  progress, 
its  aim,  its  character,  might  suitably  occupy  the  time  at  our 
disposal.  This,  accordingly,  is  the  subject  of  which  I  pro- 
pose to  treat. 

I  have  used  the  term  European  civilization,  because  it  is' 
evident  that  there  is  an  European  civilization;  that  a  cer- 
tain unity  pervades  the  civilization  of  the  various  European 
states;  that,  notwithstanding  infinite  diversities  of  time, 
place  and  circumstance,  this  civilization  takes  its  first  rise 
in  facts  almost  wholly  similar,  proceeds  everywhere  upon 
the  same  principles,  and  tends  to  produce  well  nigh  every- 
where analogous  results.  There  is,  then,  an  European  civ- 
ilization, and  it  is  to  the  subject  of  this  aggregate  civiliza- 
tion that  I  will  request  your  attention. 

Again,  it  is  evident  that  this  civilization  cannot  be 
traced  back,  that  its  history  cannot  be  derived  from  the 
history  of  any  single  European  state.  If,  on  the  one 
hand,  it  is  manifestly  characterized  by  brevity,  on  the 
other,  its  variety  is  no  less  prodigious;  it  has  not  developed 
itself  with  completeness,  in  any  one  particular  country. 
The  features  of  its  physiognomy  are  wide-spread;  we  must 
seek  the  elements  of  its  history,  now  in  France,  now  in 
England,  now  in  Germany,  now  in  Spain. 

We  of  France  occupy  a  favorable  position  for  pursuing 
the  study  of  European  civilization.  Flattery  of  individuals,, 
even  of  our  country,  should  be  at  all  times  avoided:  it  is 
without  vanity,  I  think,  we  may  say  that  France  has  been 
the  center,  the  focus  of  European  civilization.  I  do  not 
pretend,  it  were  monstrous  to  do  so,  that  she  has  always, 
and  in  every  direction,  marched  at  the  head  of  nations. 
At  different  epochs,  Italy  has  taken  the  lead  of  her,  in  the 
arts;  England,  in  political  institutions;  and  there  may  be 
other  respects  under  which,  at  particular  periods,  other 
^uropean  nations  have  manifested  a  superiority  to  her;  but 


4  HISTORY  OF 

it  is  impossible  to  deny,  that  whenever  France  has  seen 
herself  thus  outstripped  in  the  career  of  civilization,  she 
has  called  up  fresh  vigor,  has  sprung  forward  with  a  new 
impulse,  and  has  soon  found  herself  abreast  with,  or  in 
advance  of  all  the  rest.  And  not  only  has  this  been  the 
peculiar  fortune  of  France,  but  we  have  seen  that  when  the 
civilizing  ideas  and  institutions  which  have  taken  their  rise 
in  other  lands  have  sought  to  extend  their  sphere,  to  be- 
come fertile  and  general,  to  operate  for  the  common  bene- 
fit of  European  civilization,  they  have  been  necessitated  to 
undergo,  to  a  certain  extent,  a  new  preparation  in  France; 
and  it  has  been  from  France,  as  from  a  second  native 
country,  that  they  have  gone  forth  to  the  conquest  of 
Europe.  There  is  scarcely  any  great  idea,  any  great  prin- 
ciple of  civilization,  which,  prior  to  its  diffusion,  has  not 
passed  in  this  way  through  France. 

And  for  this  reason:  there  is  in  the  French  charactei 
something  sociable,  something  sympathetic,  something 
which  makes  its  way  with  greater  facility  and  effect  than 
does  the  national  genius  of  any  other  people;  whether  from 
our  language,  whether  from  the  turn  of  our  mind,  of  our 
manners,  certain  it  is  that  our  ideas  are  more  popular  than 
those  of  other  people,  present  themselves  more  clearly  and 
intelligibly  to  the  masses  and  penetrate  among  them  more 
readily;  in  a  word,  perspicuity,  sociability,  sympathy,  are 
the  peculiar  characteristics  of  France,  of  her  civilization, 
and  it  is  these  qualities  which  rendered  her  eminently  fit 
to  march  at  the  very  head  of  European  civilizationo 

In  entering,  therefore,  upon  the  study  of  this  great  fact^ 
it  is  no  arbitrary  or  conventional  choice  to  take  France  as 
the  center  of  this  study;  we  must  needs  do  so  if  we  would 
place  ourselves,  as  it  were,  in  the  very  heart  of  civilization, 
in  the  very  heart  of  the  fact  we  are  about  to  consider. 

1  use  the  term /ac^,  and  I  do  so  purposely;  civilization  is 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  & 

a  fact  like  any  other — a  fact  susctjptible,  like  any  other,  of 
being  studied,  described,  narrated. 

For  some  time  past,  there  has  been  much  talk  of  the 
necessity  of  limiting  history  to  the  narration  of  facts: 
nothing  can  be  more  just;  but  we  must  always  bear  in  mind 
that  there  are  far  more  facts  to  narrate,  and  that  the  facts 
themselves  are  far  more  various  in  their  nature,  than ' 
people  are  at  first  disposed  to  believe;  there  are  material, 
visible  facts,  such  as  wars,  battles,  the  official  acts  of 
governments;  there  are  moral  facts,  none  the  less  real  that 
they  do  not  appear  on  the  surface;  there  are  individual 
facts  which  have  denominations  of  their  own;  there  are 
general  facts,  without  any  particular  designation,  to  which 
it  is  impossible  to  assign  any  precise  date,  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  bring  within  strict  limits,  but  which  are  yet  no 
less  facts  than  the  rest,  historical  facts,  facts  which  we 
«jannot  exclude  from  hisiory  without  mutilating  history. 

The  very  portion  of  history  which  we  are  accustomed  to 
call  its  philosophy,  the  relation  of  events  to  each  other,  the 
connection  which  unites  them,  their  causes  and  their 
effects, — these  are  all  facts,  these  are  all  history,  just  as 
much  as  the  narratives  of  battles,  and  of  other  material 
and  visible  events.  Facts  of  this  class  it  is  doubtless  more 
difficult  to  disentangle  and  explain;  we  are  more  liable  to 
error  in  giving  an  account  of  them,  and  it  is  no  easy  thing 
to  give  them  life  and  animation,  to  exhibit  them  in  clear 
and  vivid  colors j  but  this  difficulty  in  no  degree  changes 
their  nature;  they  are  none  the  less  an  essential  element  of 
history. 

Civilization  is  one  of  these  facts;  general,  hidden,  com- 
plex fact;  very  difficult,  I  allow,  to  describe,  to  relate,  but 
which  none  the  less  for  that  exists,  which,  none  the  less  for 
that,  has  a  right  to  be  described  and  related.  We  may 
raise  as  to  this  fact  a  great  number  of  questions;  we  may 
ask,  it  has  been  asked,  whether  it  is  a  good  or  an  evil? 


6  HISTORY  OF 

Some  bitterly  deplore  it;  others  rejoice  at  it.  We  may 
ask,  whether  it  is  an  universal  fact,  whether  there  is  an  uni- 
versal civilization  of  the  human  species,  a  destiny  of 
humanity;  whether  the  nations  have  handed  down  from 
age  to  age,  something  which  has  never  been  lost,  which 
must  increase,  form  a  larger  and  larger  mass,  and  thus 
pass  on  to  the  end  of  time?  For  my  own  part,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  there  is,  in  reality,  a  general  destiny  of  hu- 
manity, a  transmission  of  the  aggregate  of  civilization; 
and,  consequently,  an  universal  history  of  civilization  to 
be  written.  But  without  raising  questions  so  great,  so 
difficult  to  solve,  if  we  restrict  ourselves  to  a  definite  limit 
of  time  and  space,  if  we  confine  ourselves  to  the  history  of 
a  certain  number  of  centuries,  of  a  certain  people,  it  is 
evident  that  within  these  bounds,  civilization  is  a  fact 
which  can  be  described,  related — which  is  history.  I  will 
at  once  add,  that  this  history  is  the  greatest  of  all,  that  it 
includes  all. 

And,  indeed,  does  it  not  seem  to  yourselves  that  the  fact 
civilization  is  the  fact  par  excellence — the  general  and  defini- 
tive fact,  in  which  all  the  others  terminate,  into  which 
they  all  resolve  themselves?  Take  all  the  facts  which 
compose  the  history  of  a  nation,  and  which  we  are  accus- 
tomed to  regard  as  the  elements  of  its  life;  take  its  institu- 
tions, its  commerce,  its  industry,  its  wars,  all  the  details  of 
its  government:  when  we  would  consider  these  facts  in 
their  aggregate,  in  their  connection,  when  we  would  esti- 
mate them,  judge  them,  we  ask  in  what  they  have  contrib- 
uted to  the  civilization  of  that  nation,  what  part  they 
have  taken  in  it^  what  influence  they  have  exercised  over 
it.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  not  only  form  a  complete  idea 
of  them,  but  measure  and  appreciate  their  true  value;  they 
are,  as  it  were,  rivers,  of  which  we  ask  what  quantity  of 
water  it  is  they  contribute  to  the  ocean?    For  civilization 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  7 

is  a  sort  of  ocean,  constituting  the  wealth  of  a  people,  and 
on  whose  bosom  all  the  elements  of  the  life  of  that  people, 
all  the  powers  supporting  its  existence,  assemble  and  unite. 
This  is  so  true,  that  even  facts,  which  from  their  nature 
are  odious,  pernicious,  which  weigh  painfully  upon  nations, 
despotism,  for  example,  and  anarchy,  if  they  have  contrib- 
uted in  some  way  to  civilization,  if  they  have  enabled  it 
to  make  an  onward  stride,  up  to  a  certain  point  we  pardon 
them,  we  overlook  their  wrongs,  their  evil  nature;  in  a 
word,  wherever  we  recognize  civilization,  whatever  the 
facts  which  have  created  it,  we  are  tempted  to  forget  the 
price  it  has  cost. 

There  are,  moreover,  facts  which,  properly  speaking,  we 
cannot  call  social;  individual  facts,  which  seem  to  interest 
the  human  soul  rather  than  the  public  life:  such  are  religi- 
ous creeds  and  philosophical  ideas,  sciences,  letters,  arts. 
These  facts  appear  to  address  themselves  to  man  wuth  a 
view  to  his  moral  perfection,  his  intellectual  gratification; 
to  have  for  their  object  his  internal  amelioration,  his  men- 
tal pleasure,  rather  than  his  social  condition.  But,  here 
again,  it  is  with  reference  to  civilization  that  these  very 
facts  are  often  considered,  and  claim  to  be  considered. 

At  all  times,  in  all  countries,  religion  has  assumed  the 
glory  of  having  civilized  the  people;  sciences,  letters,  arts, 
all  the  intellectual  and  moral  pleasures,  have  claimed  a 
share  in  this  glory;  and  we  have  deemed  it  a  praise  and  an 
honor  to  them,  when  we  have  recognized  this  claim  ou 
their  part.  Thus,  facts  the  most  important  and  sublime 
in  themselves,  independently  of  all  external  result,  and 
simply  in  their  relations  with  the  soul  of  man,  increase  ill 
importance,  rise  in  sublimity  from  their  affinity  with 
civilization.  Such  is  the  value  of  this  general  fact,  that  it 
gives  value  to  everything  it  touches.  And  not  only  does  it 
give  value;  there  are  even  occasions  when  the  facts  of 
which  we    speak,   religious    creeds,   philosophical    ideas. 


6  HI8T0RT  OF 

letters,  arts,  are  especially  considered  and  judged  of  with 
reference  to  their  influence  upon  civilization;  an  influence 
which  becomes,  up  to  a  certain  point  and  during  a  certain 
time,'  the  conclusive  measure  of  their  merit,  of  their  value. 

What,  then,  I  will  ask,  before  undertaking  its  history, 
what,  considered  only  in  itself,  what  is  this  so  grave,  so 
vast,  so  precious  fact,  which  seems  the  sum,  the  expression 
of  the  whole  life  of  nations? 

I  shall  take  care  here  not  to  fall  into  pure  philosophy; 
not  to  lay  down  some  ratiocinative  principle,  and  then 
deduce  from  it  the  nature  of  civilization  as  a  result;  therei 
would  be  many  chances  of  error  in  this  method.  And 
here  again  we  have  a  fact  to  verify  and  describe. 

For  a  long  period,  and  in  many  countries,  the  word. 
civilization  has  been  in  use;  people  have  attached  to  the 
word  ideas  more  or  less  clear,  more  or  less  comprehensive; 
but  there  it  is  in  use,  and  those  who  use  it  attach  some 
meaning  or  other  to  it.  It  is  the  general,  human,  popular 
meaning  of  this  word  that  we  must  study.  There  is  almost 
always  in  the  usual  acceptation  of  the  most  general  terms 
more  accuracy  than  in  the  definitions,  apparently  more 
strict,  more  precise,  of  science.  It  is  common  sense 
which  gives  to  words  their  ordinary  signification,  and 
common  sense  is  the  characteristic  of  humanity.  The 
ordinary  signification  of  a  word  is  formed  by  gradual 
progress  and  in  tne  constant  presence  of  facts;  so  that 
when  a  fact  presents  itself  which  seems  to  come  within 
the  meaning  of  a  known  term,  it  is  received  into  it,  as  it 
were,  naturally;  the  signification  of  the  term  extends  itself, 
expands,  and  by  degrees  the  various  facts,  the  various  ideas 
which  from  the  nature  of  the  things  themselves  men  shouid 
include  under  this  word,  are  includedo 

When  the  meaning  of  r..  word,  on  the  other  hand,  is  de- 
termined by  science,  this  determination,  the  work  of  one 
individual,  or  of  a.  small  number  oi  individuals,  takes  place 


CIVlLlZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  g 

under  the  influence  of  some  particular  fact  which  has 
struck  upon  the  mind.  Thus,  scientific  definitions  are,  in 
general,  much  more  narrow,  and,  hence,  much  less  ac- 
curate, much  less  true,  at  bottom,  than  the  popular  mean- 
ings of  the  terms.  In  studying  as  a  fact  the  meaning  of 
the  word  civilization,  in  investigating  all  the  ideas  which 
are  comprised  within  it,  according  to  the  common  sense  of 
mankind,  we  shall  make  a  much  greater  progress  toward 
a  knowledge  of  the  fact  itself  than  by  attempting  to  give 
it  ourselves  a  scientific  definition,  however  more  clear  and 
precise  the  latter  might  appear  at  first. 

I  will  commence  this  investigation  by  endeavoring  to 
place  before  you  some  hypotheses:  I  will  describe  a  cer- 
tain number  of  states  of  society,  and  we  will  then  inquire 
whether  general  instinct  would  recognize  in  them  the 
condition  of  a  people  civilizing  itself;  whether  we  recognize 
in  them  the  meaning  which  mankind  attaches  to  the  word 
civilization? 

First,  suppose  a  people  whose  external  life  is  easy,  is  full 
of  physical  comfort;  they  pay  few  taxes,  they  are  free  from 
suffering;  justice  is  well  administered  in  their  private 
relations — in  a  word,  material  existence  is  for  ttiem  alto- 
gether happy  and  happily  regulated.  But  at  the  same 
time,  the  intellectual  and  moral  existence  of  this  people  i» 
studiously  kept  in  a  state  of  torpor  and  inactivity;  of,  I 
will  not  say,  oppression,  for  they  do  not  understand  the 
feeling,  but  of  compression.  We  are  not  without  instances 
of  this  state  of  things.  There  has  been  a  great  number  of 
small  aristocratic  republics  in  which  the  people  have  been 
thus  treated  like  flocks  of  sheep,  well  kept  and  materially 
happy,  but  without  moral  and  intellectual  activity,  1a 
this  civilization  ?    Is  this  a  people  civilizing  itself  ? 

Another  hypothesis:  here  is  a  people  whose  material 
existence  is  less  easy,  less  comfortable,  but  still  support- 
able.    On  the  other  hand,  moral  and  intellectual  wantsr 


to  HISTORY  OF 

have  not  been  neglected,  a  certain  amount  of  mental  pas» 
ture  has  been  served  out  to  them;  elevated,  pure  senti- 
ments are  cultivated  in  them^  their  religious  and  moral 
views*  have  attained  a  certain  degree  of  development; 
but  great  care  is  taken  to  stifle  m  them  the  principle 
of  liberty;  the  intellectual  and  moral  wants,  as  in  the 
former  case  the  material  wants,  are  satisfied;  each  man  has 
meted  out  to  him  his  portion  of  truth;  no  one  is  per> 
mitted  to  seek  it  for  himself.  Immobility  is  the  charac- 
teristic of  moral  life;  it  is  the  state  into  which  have  fallen 
most  of  the  populations  of  Asia;  wherever  theocratic  dom- 
inations keep  humanity  in  check;  it  is  the  state  of  the 
Hindoos,  for  example.  I  ask  the  same  question  here  as 
before;  is  this  a  people  civilizing  itself? 

I  change  altogether  the  nature  of  the  hypothesis:  here  is 
a  people  among  whom  is  a  great  display  of  individual 
liberties,  but  where  disorder  and  inequality  are  excessive: 
it  is  the  empire  of  force  and  of  chance;  every  man,  if  he 
is  not  strong,  is  oppressed,  sufCers,  perishes;  violence  is  the 
predominant  feature  of  the  social  state.  No  one  is  ignorant 
that  Europe  h'^s  passed  through  this  state.  Is  this  a  civil- 
ized state?  It  may,  doubtless,  contain  principles  of  civil- 
ization which  will  develop  themselves  by  successive  degrees; 
but  the  fact  which  dominates  in  such  a  society  is,  assuredly, 
not  that  which  the  common  sense  of  mankind  call  civil- 
ization, 

A  take  a  fourth  and  last  hypothesis:  the  liberty  of  each 
individual  is  very  great,  inequality  among  them  is  rare,  and 
at  all  events,  very  transient.  Every  man  does  very  nearly 
just  what  he  pleases,  and  differs  little  in  power  from  his 
neighbor,  but  there  are  very  few  general  interests,  very  few 
public  ideas,  very  little  society, — -in  a  word,  the  faculties 
and  existence  oi  individuals  appear  and  then  pass  away, 
wholly  apart  and  without  r.cting  upon  each  other,  or  leav- 
ing an]*  trace  behind  them:  tho  auccessive  generations  leave 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  if 

society  at  the  same  point  at  which  they  found  It:  this  ia 
the  state  of  savage  tribes;  liberty  and  equality  are  there, 
but  assuredly  not  civilization. 

I  might  multiply  these  hypotheses,  but  I  think  we  have 
before  us  enough  to  explain  what  is  the  popular  and  natural 
meaning  of  the  word  civilization. 

It  is  clear  that  none  of  the  states  I  have  sketched  corre- 
sponds, according  to  the  natural  good  sense  of  mankind,  to 
this  term.  Why?  It  appears  to  me  that  the  first  fact 
comprised  in  the  word  civilization  (and  this  results  from 
the  different  examples  I  have  rapidly  placed  before  you),  is 
the  fact  of  progress,  of  development;  it  presents  at  once 
the  ilea  of  a  people  marching  onward,  not  to  change  its 
place,  but  to  change  its  condition;  of  a  people  whose  cult- 
ure is  condition  itself,  and  ameliorating  itself.  The  idea 
of  progress,  of  development,  appears  to  me  the  fundamental 
idea  contained  in  the  word,  civilization.  What  is  this 
progress?  what  this  development?  Herein  is  the  greatest 
difficulty  of  all. 

The  etymology  of  the  word  would  seem  to  answer  in  a 
clear  and  satisfactory  manner:  it  says  that  it  is  the  perfect- 
ing of  civil  life,  the  development  of  society,  properly  so 
called,  of  the  relations  of  men  among  themselves. 

Such  is,  in  fact,  the  first  idea  which  presents  itself  to  the 
understanding  when  the  word  civilization  is  pronounced; 
we  at  once  figure  forth  to  ourselves  the  extension,  the 
greatest  activity,  the  best  organization  of  the  social  rela- 
tions: on  the  one  hand,  an  increasing  production  of  the 
means  of  giving  strength  and  happiness  to  society;  on  the 
other,  a  more  equitable  distribution,  among  individuals,  of 
the  strength. 

Is  this  all?  Have  we  here  exhausted  all  the  natural,, 
ordinary  meaning  of  the  word  civilization?  Does  the  fac^ 
contain  nothing  more  than  this? 

It  is  almost  as  if  we  asked  •  m  the  human  species  after  ^ 


12  HISTORY  OJf 

a  mere  ant-hill,  a  society  in  which  all  that  is  requirea  is 
order  and  physical  happiness,  in  which  the  greater  the 
amount  of  labor,  and  the  more  equitable  the  division  of 
the  fitiits  of  labor,  the  more  surely  is  the  object  attained, 
the  progress  accomplished? 

Our  instinct  at  once  feels  repugnant  to  so  narrow  a  defi- 
nition of  human  destiny.  It  feels  at  the  first  glance  that 
the  word  civilization  comprehends  something  more  ex- 
tensive, more  complex,  something  superior  to  the  simple 
perfection  of  the  social  relations,  of  social  power  and 
happiness. 

Fact,  public  opinion,  the  generally  received  meaning  oi 
the  term,  are  in  accordance  with  this  instinct. 

Take  Rome  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  republic,  after  the 
second  Punic  war,  at  the  time  of  its  greatest  virtues,  when 
it  was  marching  to  the  empire  of  the  world,  when  its  social 
state  was  evidently  in  progress.  Then  take  Eome  under 
Augustus,  at  the  epoch  when  her  decline  began,  when,  at 
all  events,  the  progressive  movement  of  society  was  arrested, 
when  evil  principles  were  on  the  eve  of  prevailing:  yet  there 
is  no  one  who  does  not  think  and  say  that  the  Rome  of 
Augustus  was  more  civilized  than  the  Rome  of  Fabricius  or 
of  Cincinnatus. 

Let  us  transport  ourselves  beyond  the  Alps:  let  us  take 
the  France  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries:  it 
is  evident  that,  in  a  social  point  of  view,  considering*  the 
actual  amount  and  distribution  of  happiness  among  individ 
uals,  the  France  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centu 
ries  was  inferior  to  some  other  countries  of  Europe,  to 
Holland  and  to  England,  for  example.  I  believe  that  in  Hoi-    j 
land  and  in  England  the  social  activity  was  greater,  was 
increasing  more  rapidly,  distributing  its  fruit  more  fully,  j 
than  in  France,  yet  ask  general  good  sense,  and  it  will  say 
that  the  France  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centu* 
iuries  was  the  most  civilized  country  in  Europe.     Europe 


■\ 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  IS 

has  not  hesitated  in  her  affirmative  reply  to  the  question: 
traces  of  this  public  opinion,  as  to  France,  are  found  in  all 
the  monuments  of  European  literature. 

We  might  point  out  many  other  states  in  which  the  pros- 
perity is  greater,  is  of  more  rapid  growth,  is  better  dis» 
tributed  among  individuals  than  elsewhere,  and  in  which, 
nevertheless,  by  the  spontaneous  instinct,  the  general  good 
sense  of  men,  the  civilization  is  judged  inferior  to  that  of 
countries  not  so  well  portioned  out  in  a  purely  social  sense. 

What  does  this  mean;  what  advantages  do  these  latter 
countries  possess.'*  What  is  it  gives  them,  in  the  character 
of  civilized  countries,  this  privilege;  what  so  largely  com- 
pensates in  the  opinion  of  mankind  for  what  they  so  lack 
in  other  respects? 

A  development  other  than  that  of  social  life  has  been 
gloriously  manifested  by  them;  the  development  of  the 
individual,  internal  life,  the  development  of  man  himself, 
of  his  faculties,  his  sentiments,  his  ideas.  If  society  with 
them  be  less  perfect  than  elsewhere,  humanity  stands  forth 
in  more  grandeur  and  power.  There  remain,  no  doubt, 
many  social  conquests  to  be  made;  but  immense  intellectual 
and  moral  conquests  are  accomplished;  worldly  goods, 
social  rights,  are  wanting  to  many  men;  but  many  great 
men  live  and  shine  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Letters, 
sciences,  the  arts,  display  all  their  splendor.  Wherever 
mankind  beholds  these  great  signs,  these  signs  glorified  by 
human  nature,  wherever  it  sees  created  these  treasures  of 
sublime  enjoyment,  it  there  recognizes  and  names  civili-. 
zation. 

Two  facts,  then,  are  comprehended  in  this  great  fact;  it 
subsists  on  two  conditions,  and  manifests  itself  by  two 
symptoms:  the  development  of  social  activity,  and  that  of 
individual  activity;  the  progress  of  society  and  the  progress 
of  humanity.  Wherever  the  external  condition  of  man 
extends  itself,   vivifies,  ameliorates  itself;    wherever  the 


14  HI8T0RT  OF 

Internal  nature  of  man  displays  itself  with  lustre,  with 
grandeur;  at  these  two  signs,  and  often  despite  the  pro- 
found imperfection  of  the  social  state,  mankind  with  loud 
applause  proclaims  civilization. 

Such,  if  I  do  not  deceive  p^yself,  is  the  result  of  simple 
and  purely  common -sense  examination  of  the  general 
opinion  of  mankind.  If  we  interrogate  history,  properly 
80-called,  if  we  examine  what  is  the  nature  of  the  great 
crises  of  civilization,  of  those  facts  which,  by  universal 
consent,  have  propelled  it  onwaid,  we  shall  constantly 
recognize  one  or  other  of  the  two  elements  I  have  just 
described.  They  are  always  crises  of  individual  or  social 
development,  facts  which  have  changed  the  internal  man, 
his  creed,  his  manners,  or  his  external  condition,  his  posi- 
tion in  his  relation  with  his  fellows.  Christianity,  for 
example,  not  merely  on  its  first  appearance,  but  during 
the  first  stages  of  its  existence,  Christianity  in  no  degree 
addressed  itself  to  the  social  state;  it  announced  aloud 
that  it  would  not  meddle  with  the  social  state;  it  ordered 
the  slave  to  obey  his  master;  it  attacked  none  of  the  great 
evils,  the  great  wrongs  of  the  society  of  that  period.  Yet 
who  will  deny  that  Christianity  was  a  great  crisis  of  civiliza- 
tion? Why  was  it  so?  Because  it  changed  the  internal 
man,  creeds,  sentiments;  because  it  regenerated  the  moral 
man,  the  intellectual  man. 

We  have  seen  a  crisis  of  another  nature,  a  crisis  which 
addressed  itself,  not  to  the  internal  man,  but  to  his 
external  condition;  one  which  changed  and  regenerated 
society.  This  also  was  assuredly  one  of  the  decisive  crises 
of  civilization.  Look  through  all  history,  you  will  find 
everywhere  the  same  result;  you  will  meet  with  no  import- 
ant fact  instrumental  in  the  development  of  civilization, 
which  has  not  exercised  one  or  other  of  the  two  sorts  of 
influence  I  have  spoken  of. 

Such,  if  I  mistake  not.  is  the  natural  and  popular  mean- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  Jfr 

ing  of  the  term;  you  have  here  the  fact,  I  will  not  say 
defined,  but  described,  verified  almost  completely,  or,  at  all 
events,  in  its  general  features.  We  have  before  us  the  two- 
elements  of  civilization.  Now  comes  the  question,  would 
one  of  these  two  suffice  to  constitute  it;  would  the  develop- 
ment of  the  social  state,  the  development  of  the  individual 
man,  separately  presented,  be  civilization?  Would  the 
human  race  recognize  it  as  such,  or  have  the  two  facts  so 
intimate  and  necessary  a  relation  between  them,  that  if 
they  are  not  simultaneously  produced,  they  are  notwith- 
standing inseparable,  and  sooner  or  later  one  brings  on  the 
other? 

We  might,  as  it  appears  to  me,  approach  this  question  on 
three  several  sides.  We  might  examine  the  nature  itself  of 
the  two  elements  of  civilization,  and  ask  ourselves  whether 
by  that  alone,  they  are  or  are  not  closely  united  with,  and 
necessary  to  each  other.  We  might  inquire  of  history 
whether  they  had  manifested  themselves  isolately,  apart  the 
one  from  the  other,  or  whether  they  had  invariably  pro- 
duced the  one  the  other.  We  may,  lastly,  consult  upon 
this  question  the  common  opinion  of  mankind — common 
eense.     I  will  address  mvself  first  to  common  sense. 

When  a  great  change  is  accomplished  in  the  state  of  a 
country,  when  there  is  operated  in  it  a  large  development 
of  wealth  and  power,  a  revolution  in  the  distribution  of  the 
social  means,  this  nev/  fact  encounters  adversaries,  under- 
goes opposition:  this  is  inevitable.  What  is  the  general  cry 
of  the  adversaries  of  the  change?  They  say  that  this  prog* 
fess  of  the  social  state  does  not  ameliorate,  does  not  regen- 
erate in  like  manner,  in  a  like  degree,  the  moral,  the  in- 
ternal  state  of  man;  that  it  is  a  false,  delusive  progress,  the 
result  of  which  is  detrimental  to  morality,  to  man.  The 
friends  of  social  development  energetically  repel  this  attack;, 
they  maintain,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  progress  of  society 
necessarily  involves  and  carries  with  it  the  progress  oX 


16  BISTORT  OF 

molality;  that  when  the  external  life  is  better  regulated^ 
the  internal  life  is  refined  and  purified.  Thus  stands  the 
question  between  the  adversaries  and  partisans  of  the  new 
state.' 

Reverse  the  hypothesis:  suppose  the  moral  development 
in  progress:  what  do  the  laborers  in  this  progress  generally 
promise?  What,  in  the  origin  of  societies,  have  promised 
the  religious  rulers,  the  sages,  the  poets,  who  have  labored 
to  soften  and  to  regulate  men's  manners?  They  have 
promised  the  amelioration  of  the  social  condition,  the  more 
^equitable  distribution  of  the  social  means.  What,  then,  I 
-ask  you,  is  involved  in  these  disputes,  these  promises? 
What  do  they  mean?    What  do  they  imply? 

They  imply  that  in  the  spontaneous,  instinctive  convic- 
vion  of  mankind,  the  two  elements  of  civilization,  the  social 
development  and  the  moral  development,  are  closely  con- 
nected togathor;  that  at  sight  of  the  one,  man  at  once  looks 
forward  to  tho  other.  It  is  to  this  natural  instinctive  con- 
victioii  that  those  who  are  maintaining  or  combating  one 
or  other  of  the  two  developments  address  themsehies,  when 
they  aifirm  or  deny  their  union.  It  is  well  understood, 
that  if  we  can  persuade  mankind  that  the  amelioration  of 
the  social  state  will  be  adverse  to  the  internal  progress  of 
individjals,  we  shall  have  succeeded  in  decrying  and  en- 
feebling the  revolution  in  operation  throughout  society.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  we  promise  mankind  the  ameliora- 
tion oJ  society  by  means  of  the  amelioration  of  the  indi- 
vidual, it  is  well  understood  that  the  tendency  is  to  place 
faith  in  these  promises,  and  it  is  accordingly  made  use  of  with 
success.  It  is  evidently,  therefore,  the  instinctive  belief  of 
humanity,  that  the  movements  of  civilization  are  connected 
i;he  one  with  the  other,  and  reciprocally  produce  the  one 
the  other. 

If  we  address  ourselves  to  the  history  of  the  world,  we 
shall  receive  the  same  answer.     We  shall  find  that  all  the 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPB.  IT 

great  developments  of  the  internal  man  have  turned  to  tl^e 
profit  of  society;  all  the  great  developments  of  the  social 
state  to  the  profit  of  individual  man.  We  find  the  one  or 
other  of  the  two  facts  predominating,  manifesting  itself 
with  striking  effect,  and  impressing  upon  the  movement  in 
progress  a  distinctive  character.  ^^  is,  sometimes,  only 
after  a  very  long  interval  of  time,  after  a  thousand  ob- 
stacles, a  thousand  transformations,  that  the  second  fact, 
developing  itself,  comes  to  complete  the  civilization  which 
the  first  had  commenced.  But  if  you  examine  them  closely, 
you  will  soon  perceive  the  bond  which  unites  them.  The 
inarch  of  Providence  is  not  restricted  to  narrow  limits;  it 
js  not  bound,  and  it  does  not  trouble  itself,  to  follow  out 
to-day  the  consequences  of  the  principle  which  it  laid  down 
yesterday.  The  consequences  will  come  in  due  course^ 
when  the  hour  for  them  has  arrived,  perhaps  not  till  hun- 
dreds of  years  have  passed  away;  though  its  reasoning  may^ 
appear  to  us  slow,  its  logic  is  none  the  less  true  and  sound. 
To  Providence,  time  is  as  nothing;  it  strides  through  time- 
as  the  gods  of  Homer  through  space;  it  makes  but  one  step, 
and  ages  have  vanished  behind  it.  How  many  centuries, 
what  infinite  evenis  passed  away  before  the  regeneration  of 
the  moral  man  by  Christianity  exercised  upon  the  regener- 
ation of  the  social  state  its  great  and  legitimate  influence. 
Yet  who  will  deny  that  it  any  the  less  succeeded? 

If  from  history  we  extend  our  inquiries  to  the  nature  itself 
of  the  two  facts  which  constitute  civilization,  we  are  infal- 
libly led  to  the  same  result.  There  is  no  one  who  has  not 
experienced  this  in  his  own  case.  When  a  moral  change  is 
operated  in  man,  when  he  acquires  an  idea,  or  a  virtue,  or 
a  faculty,  more  than  he  had  before — in  a  word,  when  he 
develops  himself  individually,  what  is  the  desire,  what  the 
want,  which  at  the  same  moment  takes  possession  of  him  ?  It 
is  the  desire,  the  want,  to  communicate  the  new  sentiment 
to  the  world  about  him,  to  give  realization  to  his  thoughts 


18  HISTORY  OF 

'externally.  As  soon  as  a  man  acquires  any  thing,  as  soon  as 
his  being  takes  in  his  own  conviction  a  new  development, 
•assumes  an  additional  value,  forthwith  he  attaches  to  this 
new  development,  this  fresh  value,  the  idea  of  possession; 
Jie  feels  himself  impelled,  compelled,  by  his  instinct,  by  an 
inward  voice,  to  extend  to  others  the  change,  the  amelio- 
Tation,  which  has  been  accomplished  in  his  own  person. 
We  owe  the  great  reformers  solely  to  this  cause;  the  mighty 
men  who  have  changed  the  face  of  the  world,  after  having 
changed  themselves,  were  urged  onward,  were  guided  on 
their  course,  by  no  other  want  than  this.  So  much  for  the 
alteration  which  is  operated  in  the  internal  man;  now  to 
the  other.  A  revolution  is  accomplished  in  the  state  of 
society;  it  is  better  regulated,  rights  and  property  are 
more  equitably  distributed  among  its  members — that  is  to 
say,  the  aspect  of  the  world  becomes  purer  and  more  beau- 
tiful, the  action  of  government,  the  conduct  of  men  in 
their  mutual  relations,  more  just,  more  benevolent.  Do 
you  suppose  that  this  improved  aspect  of  the  world,  this 
amelioration  of  external  facts,  does  not  react  upon  the  in- 
terior of  man,  upon  humanity?  All  that  is  said  as  to  the 
authority  of  examples,  of  customs,  of  noble  models,  is 
founded  upon  this  only:  that  an  external  fact,  good,  well- 
regulated,  leads  sooner  or  later,  more  or  less  completely,  to 
an  internal  fact  of  the  same  nature,  the  same  merit;  that 
a  world  better  regulated,  a  world  more  just,  renders  man 
himself  more  just;  that  the  inward  is  reformed  by  the  out- 
'ward,  as  the  outward  by  the  inward;  that  the  two  elements 
of  civilization  are  closely  connected  the  one  with  the  other; 
that  centuries,  that  obstacles  of  all  sorts,  may  interpost 
between  them;  that  it  is  possible  they  may  have  to  undergo 
a  thousand  transformations  in  order  to  regain  each  other; 
but  sooner  or  later  they  will  rejoin  each  other:  this  is  the 
law  of  their  nature,  the  general  fact  of  history,  the  instinc- 
tive faith  of  the  human  race. 


i 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  19 


I  think  I  have  thus — not  exhausted  the  subject,  very  far 
from  it — but,  exhibited  in  a  well-nigh  complete,  though 
cursory  manner,  the  fact  of  civilization;  I  think  I  have 
described  it,  settled  its  limits,  and  stated  the  principal, 
the  fundamental  questions  to  which  it  gives  rise.  I  might 
stop  here;  but  I  cannot  help  touching  upon  a  question 
which  meets  me  at  this  point;  one  of  those  questions  which 
are  not  historical  questions,  properly  so  called;  which  are 
questions,  I  will  not  call  them  hypothetical,  but  conject- 
ural; questions  of  which  man  holds  but  one  end,  the  other 
end  being  permanently  beyond  his  reach;  questions  of 
which  he  cannot  make  the  circuit,  nor  view  on  more  than 
one  side;  and  yet  questions  not  the  less  real,  not  the  less 
calling  upon  him  for  thought;  for  they  present  themselves 
before  him,  despite  of  himself,  at  every  moment. 

Of  those  two  developments  of  which  we  have  spoken, 
and  which  constitute  the  fact  of  civilization,  the  develop- 
ment of  society  on  the  one  hand  and  of  humanity  on  the 
other,  which  is  the  end,  which  is  the  means?  Is  it  to  per- 
fect his  social  condition,  to  ameliorate  his  existence  on 
earth,  that  man  develops  himself,  his  faculties,  sentiments, 
ideas,  his  whole  being? — or  rather,  is  not  the  amelioration 
of  the  social  condition,  the  progress  of  society,  society  itself, 
the  theatre,  the  occasion,  the  moMhy  of  the  development  of 
the  individual,  in  a  word,  is  society  made  to  serve  the  in» 
dividual,  or  the  individual  to  serve  society?  On  the  answer 
to  this  question  inevitably  depends  that  whether  the  des- 
tiny of  man  is  purely  social;  whether  society  drains  up 
and  exhausts  the  whole  man;  or  whether  he  bears  within 
him  something  intrinsic — something  superior  to  his  exist* 
ence  on  earth. 

A  man,  whom  I  am  proud  to  call  my  friend,  a  man  who 
has  passed  though  meetings  like  our  own  to  assume  the- 
first  place  in  assemblies  less  peaceable  and  more  powerful: 
a  man,  all  whose  words  are  engraven  on  the  hfi^rta  of  thos^ 


80  HISTORY  OF 

who  hear  them,  M.  Eoyer-Collard,  has  solved  this  question 
according  to  his  own  conviction,  at  least,  in  his  speech  on 
the  Sacrilege  Bill.  I  find  in  that  speech  these  two  sentences: 
**  Human  societies  are  born,  live  and  die,  on  the  earth;  it 
is  there  their  destinies  are  accomplished.  .  .  .  But 
*bey  contain  not  the  whole  man.  After  he  has  engaged 
himself  to  society,  there  remains  to  him  the  noblest  part  of 
himself,  those  high  faculties  by  which  he  elevates  himself 
to  God,  to  a  future  life,  to  unknown  felicity  in  an  invisible 
world.  .  •  .  We,  persons  individual  and  indentical, 
veritable  beings  endowed  with  immortality,  we  have  a  dif- 
ferent destiny  from  that  of  states. ^^* 

I  will  add  nothing  to  this;  I  will  not  undertake  to  treat  the 
question  itself;  I  content  myself  with  stating  it.  It  is  met 
with  at  the  history  of  civilization:  when  the  history  of 
civilization  is  completed,  when  there  is  nothing  more  to 
say  as  to  our  present  existence,  man  inevitably  asks  him- 
self whether  all  is  exhausted,  whether  he  has  reached  the 
end  of  all  things?  This  then  is  the  last,  the  highest  of  all 
those  problems  to  which  history  of  civilization  can  lead. 
It  is  sufficient  for  me  to  have  indicated  its  position  and  its 
grandeur. 

From  all  I  have  said  it  is  evident  that  the  history  of  civili- 
sation might  be  treated  in  two  methods,  drawn  from  two 
sources,  considered  under  two  different  aspects.  The  his- 
torian might  place  himself  in  the  heart  of  the  human  mind 
for  a  given  period,  a  series  of  ages,  or  among  the  deternib- 
nate  people;  he  might  study,  describe,  relate  all  the  events, 
all  the  transformations,  all  the  revolutions  which  had  been 
accomplished  in  the  internal  man;  and  when  he  should 
•arrive  at  the  end  he  would  have  a  history  of  civilization 
among  the  people,  and  in  the  period  he  had  selected.     He 

*  Opinion  de  M.  Royer-Collard  sur  le  Projet  de  Loi  relatif  on 
Sacrilege,  pp.  7,  17. 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  21 

may  proceed  in  another  manner:  instead  of  penetrating 
the  internal  man,  he  may  take  his  stand — he  may  place 
himself  in  the  midst  of  the  world;  instead  of  describing  the 
vicissitudes  of  the  ideas,  the  sentiments  of  the  individual 
being,  he  may  describe  external  facts,  the  events,  the 
changes  of  the  social  state.  These  two  portions,  these  two 
histories  of  civilization  are  closely  connected  with  each 
other;  they  are  the  reflection,  the  image  of  each  other. 
Yet,  they  may  be  separated;  perhaps,  indeed,  they  ought 
to  be  SO;  at  least  at  the  onset,  in  order  that  both  the  one 
and  the  other  may  be  treated  of  in  detail,  and  with  per- 
spicuity. For  my  part  I  do  not  propose  to  study  with  you 
the  historv  of  civilization  in  the  interior  of  the  human 
soul;  it  is  the  history  of  external  events  of  the  visible  and 
social  world  that  I  shall  occupy  myself  with.  I  had  wished, 
indeed,  to  exhibit  to  you  the  whole  fact  of  civilization, 
such  as  I  can  conceive  it  in  all  its  complexity  and  extent,  to 
set  forth  before  you  all  the  higli  questions  which  may  arise 
from  it.  At  present  I  restrict  myself;  mark  out  my  field  of 
inquiry  within  narrower  limits;  it  is  only  the  history  of  the 
social  state  that  I  purpose  investigating. 

We  shall  begin  by  seeking  all  the  elements  of  European 
civilization  in  its  cradle  at  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire; 
we  will  study  with  attention  society,  such  as  it  was,  in  the 
midst  of  those  famous  ruins.  We  will  endeavor,  not  to 
resuscitate,  but  to  place  its  elements  side  by  side,  and 
when  we  have  done  so,  we  will  endeavor  to  make  them 
move  and  follow  them  in  their  developments  through  the 
fifteen  centuries  which  have  elapsed  since  that  epoch. 

I  believe  that  when  we  have  got  but  a  very  little  way  into 
this  study,  we  shall  acquire  the  conviction  that  civilization 
is  as  yet  very  young;  that  the  world  has  by  no  means  as 
yet  measured  the  whole  of  its  career.  Assuredly  human 
thought  is  at  this  time  very  far  from  being  all  that  it  is 
capable  of  becoming;  we  are  very  fa**  from  comprehending 


22  HISTORY  OF 

the  whole  future  of  humanity:  let  each  of  us  descend  into 
his  own  mind,  let  him  interrogate  himself  as  to  the  utmost 
possible  good  he  has  formed  a  conception  of  and  hopes  for; 
let  him  then  compare  his  idea  with  what  actually  exists  in 
the  world;  he  will  be  convinced  that  society  and  civiliza- 
tion are  very  young;  that  notwithstanding  the  length  of 
the  road  they  have  come,  they  have  incomparably  further  to 
go.  This  will  lessen  nothing  of  the  pleasure  that  we  shall 
take  in  the  contemplation  of  our  actual  condition.  As  I 
endeavor  to  place  before  you  the  great  crises  in  the  history 
of  civilization  in  Europe  during  the  last  fifteen  centuries, 
you  will  see  to  what  a  degree,  even  up  in  our  own  days, 
the  condition  of  man  has  been  laborious,  stormy,  not  only 
in  the  outward  and  social  state,  but  inwardly  in  the  life  of 
the  soul.  During  all  those  ages,  the  human  mind  has  had 
to  suffer  as  much  as  the  human  race;  you  will  see  that  in 
modern  times,  for  the  first  time,  perhaps,  the  human  mind 
has  attained  a  state,  as  yet  very  imperfect,  but  still  a  state 
in  which  reigns  some  peace,  some  harmony.  It  is  the 
same  with  society;  it  has  evidently  made  immense  pro- 
gress, the  human  condition  is  easy  and  just,  compared 
with  what  it  was  previously;  we  may  almost  when  thinking 
of  cur  ancestors  apply  to  ourselves  the  verses  of  Lucretius: 

"  Suave  mari  magno,  turbantibus  sequora  ventis^ 
E  terra  magnum  alterius  spectare  laborem."  * 

We  may  say  of  ourselves,  without  too  much  pride,  as  Sthe- 
nelus  in  Homer: — 

HjuEiS  Toi  r  Xrepoov  jxey^  djusivovs?  svxojusB^  sivat.\ 

*  **  'Tis  pleasant,  in  a  great  storm,  to  contemplate,  from  a  sali 
position  on  shore,  the  perils  of  some  ships  tossed  about  by  the  furi- 
ous winds  and  the  stormy  ocean." 

t  **  Thank  Heaven,  wq  are  infinitely  better  than  those  who  went 
before  us.'* 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  23 

Let  us  be  careful,  however,  not  to  give  ourselves  up  too 
much  to  the  idea  of  our  happiness  and  amelioration,  or  we 
may  fall  into  two  grave  dangers,  pride  and  indolence;  we 
may  conceive  an  over-confidence  in  the  power  and  success 
of  the  human  mind,  in  our  own  enlightenment,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  suffer  ourselves  to  become  enervated  by  the 
luxurious  ease  of  our  condition.  It  appears  to  me  that  we 
are  constantly  fluctuating  between  a  tendency  to  complain 
upon  light  grounds,  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  be  content 
without  reason,  on  the  other.  We  have  a  susceptibility  of 
spirit,  a  craving,  an  unlimited  ambition  in  the  thought,  in 
our  desire,  in  the  movement  of  the  imagination;  but  when^ 
it  comes  to  the  practical  work  of  life,  when  we  are  called 
upon  to  give  ourselves  any  trouble,  to  make  any  sacrifices, 
to  use  any  efforts  to  attain  the  object,  our  arms  fall  down 
listlessly  by  our  sides,  and  we  give  the  matter  up  in  despair,  ^ 
with  a  facility  equaled  only  by  the  impatience  with  which 
we  had  previously  desired  its  attainment.  We  must  be- 
ware how  we  allow  ourselves  to  yield  to  either  of  these  de- 
fects. Let  us  accustom  ourselves  duly  to  estimate  before- 
hand the  extent  of  our  force,  our  capacity,  our  knowledge; 
and  let  us  aim  at  nothing  which  we  feel  we  cannot  attain 
legitimately,  justly,  regularly,  and  with  unfailing  regard  to 
the  principles  upon  which  our  civilization  itself  rests.  We 
seem  at  times  tempted  to  adopt  the  principles  which,  as  a 
general  rule,  we  assail  and  hold  up  to  scorn — the  prin- 
ciples, the  right  of  the  strongest  of  barbarian  Europe;  tno 
brute  force,  the  violence,  the  downright  lying  which  were 
matters  of  course,  of  daily  occurrence,  four  or  five  hundred 
years  ago.  But  when  we  yield  for  a  moment  to  this  desirO; 
we  find  in  ourselves  neither  the  perseverance  nor  the  sav- 
age energy  of  the  men  of  that  period,  who,  suffering  greatly 
from  their  condition,  were  naturally  anxious,  and  inces- 
santly essaying,  to  emancipate  themselves  from  it.  We,  of 
the  present  day^  are  content  with  our  condition;  let  us  not 


24  HISTORY  OF 

expose  it  to  danger  by  indulging  in  vague  desires,  the  time 
for  realizing  which  has  not  come.  Much  has  been  given  to  us, 
inuch  will  be  required  of  us;  we  must  render  to  posterity  a 
strict  account  of  or.r  conduct;  the  public,  the  government, 
all  are  now  subjected  to  discussion,  examination,  responsi- 
bility. Let  us  attach  ourselves  firmly,  faithfully,  undevi- 
atingly,  to  the  principles  of  our  civilization — justice,  legal- 
ity, publicity,  liberty;  and  let  us  never  forget,  that  while 
we  ourselves  require,  and  with  reason,  that  all  things  shall 
be  open  to  our  inspection  and  inquiry,  we  ourselves  are 
under  the  eye  of  the  world,  and  shall,  in  our  turn,  be  dis- 
cussed, be  judged. 


CIVILIZA  TlOii  m  EUROPE.  25 


SECOND  LECTUBB. 

Purpose  of  the  lecture — Unity  of  ancient  civilization — Variety  of 
modern  civilization — Its  superiority — Condition  of  Europe  at  the 
fall  of  the  Roman  Empire — Preponderance  of  the  towns — Attempt 
at  political  reform  by  the  emperors — Rescript  of  Honorius  and 
of  Theodosius  II — Power  o  the  name  of  the  Empire— The 
Christian  church — The  various  stages  through  which  it  had 
passed  at  the  fifth  century — The  clergy  exercising  municipal 
functions — Good  and  evil  influence  of  the  church — The  bar- 
barians— They  introduce  into  the  modern  world  the  sentiments 
of  personal  independence,  and  the  devotion  of  man  to  man — 
Summary  of  the  different  elements  of  civilization  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  fifth  century. 

In  meditating  the  plan  of  the  course  with  which  I  pro- 
pose to  present  you,  I  am  fearful  lest  my  lectures  should 
possess  the  double  inconvenience  of  being  very  long,  by 
reason  of  the  necessity  of  condensing  much  matter  into 
little  space,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  being  too  concise. 

I  dread  yet  another  difficulty,  originating  in  the  same 
cause:  the  necessity,  namely,  of  sometimes  making  affirma- 
tions without  proving  them.  This  is  also  the  result  of  the 
narrow  space  to  which  I  find  myself  confined.  There  will 
occur  ideas  and  assertions  of  which  the  confirmation  must 
be  postponed.  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  sometimes 
placing  you  under  the  necessity  of  believing  me  upon  my 
bare  word.  I  come  even  now  to  an  occasion  of  imposing 
upon  you  this  necessity. 

I  have  endeavored,  in  the  preceding  lecture,  to  explain 
the  fact  of  civilization  in  general,  without  speaking  of  any 
particular  civilization,  without  regarding  circumstance  of 


M  EI8T0RT  OF 

time  and  place,  considering  the  fact  in  itself,  and  under  a 
purely  philosophical  point  of  view.  I  come  to-day  to  the 
history  of  European  civilization;  but  before  entering  upon 
the  narrative  itself,  I  wish  to  make  you  acquainted,  in  a 
general  manner,  with  the  particular  physiognomy  of  this 
civilization;  I  desire  to  characterize  it  so  clearly  to  you^ 
that  it  may  appear  to  you  perfectly  distinct  from  all  other 
civilizations  which  have  developed  themselves  in  the  world. 
This  I  am  going  to  attempt,  more  than  which  I  dare  not 
say;  but  I  can  only  affirm  it,  unless  I  could  succeed  in  de- 
picting European  society  with  such  faithfulness  that  you 
should  instantly  recognize  it  as  a  portrait.  But  of  this  I 
dare  not  flatter  myself. 

When  we  regard  the  civilizations  which  have  preceded 
that  of  modern  Europe,  whether  in  Asia  or  elsewhere, 
including  even  Greek  and  Koman  civilization,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  help  being  struck  with  the  unity  which  pervades 
them.  They  seem  to  have  emanated  from  a  single  fact, 
from  a  single  idea;  one  might  say  that  society  has  attached 
itself  to  a  solitary  dominant  principle,  which  has  deter- 
mined its  institutions,  its  customs,  its  creeds,  in  one  word, 
all  its  developments. 

In  Egypt,  for  instance,  it  was  the  theocratic  principle 
which  pervaded  the  entire  community;  it  reproduced  itself 
in  the  customs,  in  the  monuments,  and  in  all  that  remains 
to  us  of  Egyptian  civilization.  In  India,  you  will  discover 
the  same  fact;  there  is  still  the  almost  exclusive  dominion 
of  the  theocratic  principle.  Elsewhere  you  will  meet  with 
another  organizing  principle — the  domination  of  a  victori- 
ous caste;  the  principle  of  force  will  here  alone  possess 
society,  imposing  thereupon  its  laws  and  its  character. 
Elsewhere  society  will  be  the  expression  of  the  democratic 
principle;  it  has  been  thus  with  the  commercial  republics 
which  have  covered  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor  and  of  Syria, 
in  Ionia,  in  Phenicia.     In  short,  when  we  contemplate 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  %% 

ancient  civilizations,  we  find  them  stamped  with  a  singular 
character  of  unity  in  their  institutions,  their  ideas  and 
their  manners;  a  sole,  or  at  least,  a  strongly  prepondera- 
ting force  governs  and  determines  all. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  unity  of  principle  and 
form  in  the  civilization  of  these  states  has  always  prevailed 
therein.  When  we  go  back  to  their  earlier  history,  we 
find  that  the  various  powers  which  may  develop  themselves 
in  the  heart  of  a  society,  have  often  contended  for  empire. 
Among  the  Egyptians,  the  Etruscans,  the  Greeks  them- 
selves, etc.,  the  order  of  warriors,  for  example,  has  strug- 
gled against  that  of  the  priests;  elsewhere,  the  spirit  of 
clanship  has  struggled  against  that  of  free  association;  the 
aristocratic  against  the  popular  system,  etc.  But  it  has 
generally  been  in  ante-historical  times  that  such  struggles 
have  occurred;  and  thus  only  a  vague  recollection  has 
remained  of  them. 

The  struggle  has  sometimes  reproduced  itself  in  the 
course  of  the  existence  of  nations;  but,  almost  invariably, 
it  has  soon  been  terminated;  one  of  the  powers  that  disr 
puted  for  empire  has  soon  gained  it,  and  taken  sole  posses* 
sion  of  the  society.  The  war  has  always  terminated  by 
the,  if  not  exclusive,  at  least  largely  preponderating, 
domination  of  some  particular  principle.  The  co-existence 
and  the  combat  of  different  principles  have  never,  in  the 
history  of  these  peoples,  been  more  than  a  transitory  crisis, 
an  accident. 

The  result  of  this  has  been  a  remarkable  simplicity  in  the 
majority  of  ancient  civilizations.  This  simplicity  has  pro- 
duced different  consequences.  Sometimes,  as  in  Greece, 
the  simplicity  of  the  social  principle  has  led  to  a  wonder- 
fully rapid  development;  never  has  any  people  unfolded 
itself  in  so  short  a  period  with  such  brilliant  effect.  But 
after  this  astonishing  flight,  Greece  seemed  suddenly  ex- 
hausted; its  decay,  if  it  was  not  so  rapid  as  its  rise^  was 


28  HIS  TOE  r  or 

nevertheless  strangely  prompt.  It  seems  tha»t  the  creative 
force  of  the  principle  ot  Greek  civilization  was  exhausted; 
no  other  has  come  to  renew  it. 

Elsewhere,  in  Egypt  and  in  India,  for  instance,  the 
unity  of  the  principle  of  civilization  has  had  a  different 
effect;  society  has  fallen  into  a  stationary  condition.  Sim- 
plicity has  brought  monotony;  the  country  has  not  been 
destroyed,  society  has  continued  to  exist,  but  motionless, 
and  as  if  frozen. 

It  is  to  the  same  cause  that  we  must  attribute  the  char« 
acter  of  tyranny  which  appeared  in  the  name  of  principle 
and  under  the  most  various  forms,  among  all  the  ancient 
civilizations.  Society  belonged  to  an  exclusive  power, 
which  would  allow  of  the  existence  of  none  other.  Every 
differing  tendency  was  proscribed  and  hunted  down. 
Never  has  the  ruling  principle  chosen  to  admit  beside  it  the 
manifestation  and  action  of  a  different  principle. 

This  character  of  unity  of  civilization  is  equally  stamped 
upon  literature  and  the  works  of  the  mind.  Who  is  unac- 
quainted with  the  monuments  of  Indian  literature,  which 
have  lately  been  distributed  over  Europe?  It  is  impossible 
not  to  see  that  they  are  all  cast  in  the  same  mold;  they 
seem  all  to  be  the  result  of  the  same  fact,  the  expression  of 
the  same  idea;  works  of  religion  or  morals,  historical  tra- 
ditions, dramatic  and  epic  poetry,  everywhere  the  same 
character  is  stamped;  the  productions  of  the  mind  bear  thd 
same  character  of  simplicity  and  of  monotony  whicb 
appears  in  events  and  institutions.  Even  in  Greece,  in  the 
center  of  all  the  riches  of  the  human  intellect,  a  singular 
uniformity  reigns  in  literature  and  in  the  arts. 

It  has  been  wholly  otherwise  with  the  civilization  of 
modern  Europe.  Without  entering  into  details,  look  upon 
it,  gather  together  your  recollections:  it  will  immediately 
appear  to  you  varied,  confused,  stormy;  all  forms,  all 
principles  of  social  organization  co-exist  therein;  powers 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  39 

spiritual  and  temporal;  elements  theocratic,  monarchical 
aristocratic,  democratic;  all  orders,  all  social  arrangements 
mingle  and  press  upon  one  another;  there  are  infinite  de- 
grees of  liberty,  wealth,  and  influence.  These  various 
forces  are  in  a  state  of  continual  struggle  among  them- 
selves, 3^et  no  one  succeeds  in  stifling  the  others,  and  taking 
possession  of  society.  In  ancient  times,  at  every  great 
epoch,  all  societies  seemed  cast  in  the  same  mold:  it  is 
sometimes  pure  monarchy,  sometimes  theocracy  or  democ- 
racy, that  prevails;  but  each,  in  its  turn,  prevails  com- 
pletely. Modern  Europe  presents  us  with  examples  of  all 
systems,  of  all  experiments  of  social  organization;  pure  or 
mixed  monarchies,  theocracies,  republics,  more  or  less 
aristocratic,  have  thus  thrived  simultaneously,  one  beside 
the  other:  and,  notwithstanding  their  diversity,  they  have 
all  a  certain  resemblance,  a  certain  family  likeness,  which 
it  is  impossible  to  mistake. 

In  the  ideas  and  sentiments  of  Europe  there  is  the  same 
variety,  the  same  struggle.  The  theocratic,  monarchic, 
aristocratic,  and  popular  creeds,  cross,  combat,  limit,  and 
modify  each  other.  Open  the  boldest  writings  of  the 
middle  ages;  never  there  is  an  idea  followed  out  to  its  last 
consequences.  The  partisans  of  absolute  power  recoil 
suddeiily  and  unconsciously  before  the  results  of  their  own 
doctrine;  they  perceive  around  them  ideas  and  influences 
which  arrest  them,  and  prevent  them  from  going  to  ex- 
tremities. The  democrats  obey  the  same  law.  On  neither 
part  exists  that  imperturbable  audacity,  that  blind  deter- 
mination of  logic,  which  show  themselves  in  ancient  civili- 
zations. The  sentiments  offer  the  same  contrasts,  the  same 
Variety;  an  energetic  love  of  independence,  side  by  side 
with  a  great  facility  of  submission;  a  singular  faithfulness 
of  man  to  man,  and,  at  the  same  time,  an  uncontrollable 
wish  to  exert  free  will,  to  shake  off  every  yoke,  and  to  live 
lor  one's  self,  without  caring  for  any  other.  The  souls  of 
men  are  as  different,  as  agitated  as  society. 


30  HISTORY  OF 

The  same  character  discovers  itself  in  modern  literature. 
We  cannot  but  agree  that,  as  regards  artistic  form  and 
beauty,  they  are  very  much  inferior  to  ancient  literature; 
but,  as  regards  depth  of  sentiment  and  of  ideas,  they  are 
far  more  rich  and  vigorous.  We  see  that  the  human  soul 
has  been  moved  upon  a  greater  number  of  points,  and  to  a 
greater  depth.  Imperfection  of  form  results  from  this 
very  cause.  The  richer  and  more  numerous  the  materials, 
the  more  difficult  it  is  to  reduce  them  to  a  pure  and  simple 
form.  That  which  constitutes  the  beauty  of  a  composition, 
of  that  which  we  call  form  in  works  of  art,  is  clearness, 
simplicity,  and  a  symbolic  unity  of  workmanship.  With 
the  prodigious  diversity  of  the  ideas  and  sentiments  of 
European  civilization,  it  has  been  much  more  difficult  to 
arrive  at  this  simplicity,  this  clearness. 

On  all  sides  then  this  predominant  character  of  modern 
civilization  discovers  itself.  It  has  no  doubt  had  this  dis- 
advantage, that,  when  we  consider  separately  such  or  such 
a  particular  development  of  the  human  mind  in  letters,  in 
the  arts,  in  all  directions  in  which  i];  can  advance,  we  usu- 
ally find  it  inferior  to  the  corresponding  development  in 
ancient  civilizations;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  when  we 
regard  it  in  the  aggregate,  European  civilization  shows  itself 
incomparably  richer  than  any  other;  it  has  displayed  at 
one  and  the  same  time  many  more  different  developments. 
Consequently  you  find  that  it  has  existed  fifteen  centuries, 
and  yet  is  still  in  a  state  of  continuous  progression;  it  has 
not  advanced  nearly  so  rapidly  as  the  Greek  civilization, 
but  its  progress  has  never  ceased  to  grow.  It  catches  a 
glimpse  of  the  vast  career  which  lies  before  it,  and  day 
after  day  it  shoots  forward  more  rapidly,  because  more  and 
more  of  freedom  attends  its  movements.  While  in  other 
civilizations  tne  exclusive,  or  at  least  the  excessively  pre- 
ponderating dominion  of  a  single  principle,  of  a  single 
form,  has  been  the  cause  of  tyranny,  in  modern  Europe 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  31 

the  diversity  of  elements  which  constitute  the  social  order, 
the  impossibility  under  which  they  have  been  placed  of 
excluding  each  other,  have  given  birth  to  the  freedom 
which  prevails  in  the  present  day.  Not  having  been  able 
to  exterminate  each  other,  it  has  become  necessary  that 
various  principles  should  exist  together  —  that  they 
should  make  between  them  a  sort  of  compact.  Each 
has  agreed  to  undertake  that  portion  of  the  development 
which  may  fall  to  its  share;  and  while  elsewhere  the  pre- 

'  dominance  of  a  principle  produced  tyranny,  in  Europe  lib- 
erty has  been  the  result  of  the  variety  of  the  elements  of 
civilization  and  of  the  state  of  struggle  in  which  they  have 
constantly  existed. 

This  constitutes  a  real  and  an  immense  superiority;  and 
if  we  investigate  yet  further,  if  we  penetrate  beyond  exter- 
nal facts  into  the  nature  of  things,  we  shall  discover  that 
this  superiority  is  legitimate,  and  acknowledged  by  reason 
as  well  as  proclaimed  by  facts.  Forgetting  for  a  moment 
European  civilization,  let  us  turn  our  attention  to  the  world 
in  general,  on  the  general  course  of  terrestrial  things. 
What  character  do  we  find?  How  goes  the  world?  It 
moves  precisely  with  this  diversity  and  variety  of  elements, 
a  prey  to  this  constant  struggle  which  we  have  remarked 
in  European  civilization.     Evidently  it  has  not  been  per- 

P  mitted  to  any  single  principle,  to  any  particular  organiza- 
tion, to  any  single  idea,  or  to  any  special  force,  that  it 
should  possess  itself  of  the  world,  molding  it  once  for  all, 
destroying  all  other  influences  to  reign  therein  itself 
exclusively. 

Various  powers,  principles  and  systems  mingle,  limit 
each  other,  and  struggle  without  ceasing,  in  turn  predom- 
inating or  predominated  over,  never  entirely  conquered  or 
conquering.  A  variety  of  forms,  of  ideas,  and  of  principles, 
then,  struggles,  their  efforts  after  a  certain  unity,  a  ceitain 
ideal  which  perhaps  can  never  be  attained,  but  to  which 


32  HISTORY  OF 

the  human  race  ^ends  by  freedom  and  work;  these  consti- 
tute the  general  condition  '^f  the  world.  European  civiliza- 
tion is,  therefore,  the  faithful  image  of  the  world:  like  the' 
course  of  things  in  the  world,  it  is  neither  narrow,  exchi* 
sive,  nor  stationary.  For  the  first  time,  I  believe,  the 
character  of  specialty  has  vanished  from  civilization;  for 
the  first  time  it  is  developed  as  variously,  as  richly,  as  labo- 
riously, as  the  great  drama  of  the  universe. 

European  civilization  has  entered,  if  we  may  so  speak, 
into  the  eternal  truth,  into  the  plan  of  Providence;  it  pro- 
gresses according  to  the  intentions  of  God.  This  is  the 
rational  account  of  its  superiority. 

I  am  desirous  that  this  fundamental  and  distinguishing 
character  of  European  civilization  should  continue  present 
to  your  minds  during  the  course  of  our  labors.  At  present 
I  can  only  make  the  affirmation:  the  development  of  facts 
must  furnish  the  proof.  It  will,  nevertheless^  you  will 
agree,  be  a  strong  confirmation  of  my  assertion,  if  we  find, 
even  in  the  cradle  of  our  civilization,  the  causes  and  the 
elements  of  the  character  which  I  have  just  attributed  to 
it:  if,  at  the  moment  of  its  birth,  at  the  moment  of  the  fall 
of  the  Koman  Empire,  we  recognize  in  the  state  of  the 
world,  in  the  facts  that,  from  the  earliest  times,  have  con- 
curred to  form  European  civilization,  the  principle  of  this 
agitated  but  fruitful  diversity  which  distinguishes  it.  I  am 
about  to  attempt  this  investigation.  I  shall  examine  the 
condition  of  Europe  at  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and 
seek  to  discover,  from  institutions,  creeds,  ideas,  and  senti- 
ments, what  were  the  elements  bequeathed  by  the  ancient 
to  the  modern  world.  If,  in  these  elements,  we  shall 
already  find  impressed  the  character  which  I  have  just 
described,  it  will  have  acquired  with  you,  from  this  time 
forth,  a  high  degree  of  probability. 

First  of  all,  we  must  clearly  represent  to  ourselves  th« 
nature  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  how  it  was  formed. 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  03 

Rome  was,  in  its  origin,  only  a  municipality,  a  eoi^pora- 
tion.  The  government  of  Rome  was  merely  the  aggregate 
of  the  institutions  which  were  suited  to  a  population  con- 
fined within  the  walls  of  a  city:  these  were  municipal  insti- 
tutions, that  is  their  distinguishing  character. 

This  was  not  the  case  with  Rome  only.  If  we  turn  our 
attention  to  Italy,  at  this  period,  we  find  around  Rome 
nothing  but  towns.  That  which  was  then  called  a  people 
was  simply  a  confederation  of  towns.  The  Latin  people 
was  a  confederation  of  Latin  towns.  The  Etruscans,  the 
Samnites,  the  Sabines,  the  people  of  Graecia  Magna,  may 
all  be  described  in  the  same  terms. 

There  was,  at  this  time,  no  country — that  is  to  say,  the 
country  was  wholly  unlike  that  which  at  present  exists;  it 
was  cultivated,  as  was  necessary,  but  it  was  uninhabited. 
The  proprietors  of  lands  were  the  inhabitants  of  the  towns. 
They  went  forth  to  superintend  their  country  properties, 
and  often  took  with  them  a  certain  number  of  slaves;  but 
that  which  we  at  present  call  the  country,  that  thin  popu- 
lation— sometimes  in  isolated  habitations,  sometimes  in 
villages — which  everywhere  covers  the  soil,  was  a  fact 
almost  unknown  in  ancient  Italy. 

When  Rome  extended  itself,  what  did  she  do?  Follow 
history,  and  you  will  see  that  she  conquered  or  founded 
towns;  it  was  against  towns  that  she  fought,  with  towns 
that  she  contracted  alliances;  it  was  also  into  towns  that 
she  sent  colonies.  The  history  of  the  conquest  of  the 
world  by  Rome  is  the  history  of  the  conquest  and  founda- 
tion of  a  great  number  of  towns.  In  the  East,  the  exten- 
sion of  Roman  dominion  does  not  carry  altogether  this 
aspect:  the  population  there  was  otherwise  distributed 
than  in  the  West — it  was  much  less  concentrated  in  towns. 
But  as  we  have  to  do  here  with  the  European  population, 
what  occurred  in  the  East  is  of  little  interest  to  us. 

Confining  ourselves  to  the  West,  we  everywhere  discover 


34  HISTORY  Op 

the  fact  to  which  I  have  directed  your  attention.  In  Gaul, 
in  Spain,  you  meet  with  nothing  but  towns.  At  a  dis- 
tance from  the  towns,  the  territory  is  covered  with  marshes 
and  forests.  Examine  the  character  of  the  Koman  monu- 
ments, of  the  Roman  roads.  You  have  great  roads,  which 
reach  from  one  city  to  another;  the  multiplicity  of  minor 
roads,  which  now  cross  the  country  in  all  directions,  was 
then  unknown;  you  have  nothing  resembling  that  countless 
number  of  villages,  country  seats  and  churches,  which  have 
been  scattered  over  the  country  since  the  middle  ages. 
Rome  has  left  us  nothing  but  immense  monuments, 
stamped  with  the  municipal  character,  and  destined  for  a 
numerous  population  collected  upon  one  spot.  Under 
whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  the  Roman  world,  you 
will  find  this  almost  exclusive  preponderance  of  towns,  and 
the  social  non-existence  of  the  country. 

This  municipal  character  of  the  Roman  world  evidently 
rendered  unity,  the  social  bond  of  a  great  state,  extremely 
difficult  to  establish  and  maintain.  A  municipality  like 
Rome  had  been  able  to  conquer  the  world,  but  it  was  much 
less  easy  to  govern  and  organize  it.  Thus,  when  the  work 
appeared  completed,  when  all  the  West,  and  a  great  part  of 
the  East,  had  fallen  under  Roman  dominion,  you  behold 
this  prodigious  number  of  cities,  of  little  states,  made  for 
isolation  and  independence,  disunite,  detach  themselves, 
and  escape,  so  to  speak,  in  all  directions.  This  was  one  of 
the  causes  which  rendered  necessary  the  Empire,  a  form  of 
government  more  concentrated,  more  capable  of  holding 
together  elements  so  slightly  coherent.  The  Empire  en- 
deavored to  introduce  unity  and  combination  into  this 
scattered  society.  It  succeeded  up  to  a  certain  point.  It 
was  between  the  reigns  of  Augustus  and  Diocletian  that,  at 
the  same  time  that  civil  legislation  developed  itself,  there 
became  established  the  vast  system  of  administrative  des- 
potism which  spread  over  the  Roman  world  a  network  of 


CIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE.  35 

functionaries,  hierarchically  distributed,  well  linked  to- 
gether, both  among  themselves  and  with  the  imperial  court, 
and  solely  applied  to  rendering  effective  in  society  the  will 
of  power,  and  in  transferring  to  power  the  tributes  and 
energies  of  society. 

And  not  only  did  this  system  succeed  in  rallying  and 
in  holding  together  the  elements  of  the  Roman  world,  but 
the  idea  of  despotism,  of  central  power,  penetrated  minds 
with  a  singular  facility.  We  are  astonished  to  behold 
rapidily  prevailing  throughout  this  ill-united  assemblage  of 
petty  republics,  this  association  of  municipalities,  a  rever- 
ence for  the  imperial  majesty  alone,  august  and  sacred. 
The  necessity  of  establishing  some  bond  between  all  these 
portions  of  the  Roman  world  must  have  been  very  pressing, 
to  insure  so  easy  an  access  to  the  mind  for  the  faith  and 
almost  the  sentiments  of  despotism. 

It  was  with  these  creeds,  with  this  administrative  organ- 
ization, and  with  the  military  organization  which  was  com- 
bined with  it,  that  the  Roman  Empire  struggled  against  the 
dissolution  at  work  inwardly,  and  against  the  invasion  of 
the  barbarians  from  without.  It  struggled  for  a  long  time, 
in  a  continual  state  of  decay,but  always  defending  itself.  At 
last  a  moment  came  in  which  dissolution  prevailed:  neither 
the  skill  of  despotism  nor  the  indifference  of  servitude  suf- 
liced  to  support  this  huge  body.  In  the  fourth  century  it 
everywhere  disunited  and  dismembered  itself;  the  barba- 
rians entered  on  all  sides;  the  provinces  no  longer  resisted, 
no  longer  troubled  themselves  concerning  the  general  des- 
tiny. At  this  time  a  singular  idea  suggested  itself  to  some 
of  the  emperors:  they  desired  to  try  whether  hopes  of  gen- 
eral liberty,  a  confederation — a  system  analogous  to  that 
which,  in  the  present  day,  we  call  representative  govern- 
ment— would  not  better  defend  the  unity  of  the  Roman 
Empire  than  despotic  administration.  Here  is  a  rescript  of 
Honorius  and  Theodosius,  the  younger,  addressed,  in  the 


36  HISTORY  OF 

year  418,  to  the  prefect  of  Gaul,  the  only  purpose  of  which 
was  to  attempt  to  establish  in  the  south  of  Gaul  a  sort  of 
representative  government,  and,  with  its  aid,  to  maintain 
the  unity  of  the  emj)ire. 

"Rescript  of  the  emperors  Honorius  and  Theodosius 
the  younger,  addressed,  in  the  year  418,  to  the  pre- 
fect of  the  Gauls,  sitting  in  the  town  of  Aries. 

^'Honorius  and  Theodosius,  Augusti,  to  Agricola,  pre- 
fect of  the  Gauls: 

"  Upon  the  satisfactory  statement  that  your  Magnificence 
has  made  to  us,  among  other  information  palpably  ad- 
vantageous to  the  state,  we  decree  the  force  of  law  in 
perpetuity  to  the  following  ordinances,  to  which  the  inhab- 
itants of  our  seven  provinces  will  owe  obedience,  they  being 
such  that  they  themselves  might  have  desired  and  de- 
manded them.  Seeing  that  persons  in  office,  or  special 
deputies  from  motives  of  public  or  private  utility,  not  only 
from  each  of  the  provinces,  but  also  from  every  town,  often 
present  themselves  before  your  Magnificence,  either  to  ren- 
der accounts  or  to  treat  of  things  relative  to  the  interest  of 
proprietors,  we  have  Judged  that  it  would  be  a  seasonable 
and  profitable  thing  that,  from  the  date  of  the  present 
year,  there  should  be  annually,  at  a  fixed  time,  an  assem- 
blage held  in  the  metropolis — that  is,  in  the  town  of  Aries, 
for  the  inhabitants  of  the  seven  provinces.  By  this  insti- 
tution we  have  in  view  to  provide  equally  for  general  and 
particular  interests.  In  the  first  place,  by  the  meeting  of 
the  most  notable  of  the  inhabitants  in  the  illustrious  pres- 
ence of  the  prefect,  if  motives  of  public  order  have  not 
called  him  elsewhere,  the  best  possible  information  may  be 
gained  upon  every  subject  under  deliberation.  Nothing  of 
that  which  will  have  been  treated  of  and  decided  upon, 
after  a  ripe  consideration,  will  escape  the  knowledge  of  any 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  37 

of  the  provinces,  and  those  who  shall  not  have  been  pres- 
ent at  the  assembly  will  be  bound  to  follow  the  same  rules 
of  justice  and  equity.  Moreover,  in  ordaining  that  an 
annual  assembly  be  held  in  the  city  of  Constantine,*  we 
believe  that  we  are  doing  a  thing  not  only  advantageous  to 
the  public  good,  but  also  adapted  to  multiply  social  rela- 
tions. Indeed,  the  city  is  so  advantageously  situated, 
strangers  come  there  in  such  numbers,  and  it  enjoys  such 
an  extensive  commerce,  that  everything  finds  its  way  there 
which  grows  or  is  manufactured  in  other  places.  All 
admirable  things  that  the  rich  East,  perfumed  Arabia,  del- 
icate Assyria,  fertile  Africa,  beautiful  Spain,  valiant  Gaul 
produce,  abound  in  this  place  with  such  profusion,  that 
whatever  is  esteemed  magnificent  in  the  various  parts  of 
the  world  seems  there  the  produce  of  the  soil.  Besides, 
the  junction  of  the  Ehone  with  the  Tuscan  sea  approx- 
imates and  renders  almost  neighbors  those  countries  which 
the  first  traverses,  and  the  second  bathes  in  its  windings. 
Thus,  since  the  ent're  earth  places  at  the  service  of  this 
city  all  that  it  has  most  worthy — since  the  peculiar  pro- 
ductions of  all  countries  are  transported  hither  by  land,  by 
sea,  and  by  the  course  of  rivers,  by  help  of  sails,  of  oars, 
and  of  wagons — how  can  our  Gaul  do  otherwise  than 
behold  a  benefit  in  the  command  which  we  give  to  convoke 
u  public  assembly  in  a  city,  wherein  are  united,  as  it  were, 
by  the  gift  of  God,  all  the  enjoyments  of  life,  and  all  the 
facilities  of  commerce? 

''  The  illustrious  prefect  Petronius,f  through  a  laudable 
and   reasonable   motive,    formerly   commanded    that   this 

*Constantine  the  Great  liad  a  singular  liking  for  tlie  town  of 
A.rles.  It  was  lie  wlio  established  there  the  seat  of  the  Gaulish  pre- 
fecture; he  desired  also  that  it  should  bear  his  name,  but  custom 
prevailed  against  his  wish. 

f  Petronius  was  prefect  of  the  Gauls  between  the  years  402  and 
408- 


i^S  HISTORY  OF 

custom  should  be  observed;  but  as  the  practice  thereof  was 
interrupted  by  the  confusion  of  the  times,  and  by  the  reign 
of  usurpers,  we  have  resolved  to  revive  it  in  vigor  by  the 
authority  of  our  wisdom.  Thus,  then,  dear  and  beloved 
cousin  Agricola,  your  illustrious  Magnificence,  conforming 
yourself  to  our  present  ordinance,  and  to  the  custom  estab- 
lished by  your  predecessors,  will  cause  to  be  observed 
throughout  the  provinces  the  following  rules: 

^^  ^  Let  all  persons  who  are  honored  with  public  functions, 
or  who  are  proprietors  of  domains,  and  all  judges  of  prov- 
inces, be  informed  that,  each  year,  they  are  to  assemble  in 
council  in  the  city  of  Aries,  between  the  ides  of  August 
and  those  of  September,  the  days  of  convocation  and  of 
sitting  being  determined  at  their  pleasure. 

^^^JSTovem  Populinia  and  the  second  Aquitaine,  being 
the  most  distant  provinces,  should  their  judges  be  detained 
by  indispensable  occupations,  may  send  deputies  in  their 
place,  according  to  custom. 

"  ^  Those  who  shall  neglect  to  appear  ao  the  place 
assigned  and  atthe  time  appointed,  shall  pay  a  fine,  which, 
for  the  judges,  shall  be  five  pounds  of  gold,  and  three 
pounds  for  the  members  of  the  curicB*  and  other  digni- 
tarie& ' 

^'  \Ve  propose,  by  this  means,  to  confer  great  advantages 
and  favor  on  the  inhabitants  of  our*  provinces.  We  feel, 
also,  assured  of  adding  to  the  ornaments  of  the  city  of 
A.rles,  to  the  fidelity  of  which  we  are  so  much  indebted, 
according  to  our  brother  and  patrician,  f 

^*  Given  on  the  15th  of  the  calends  of  May;  received  at 
Aries  on  the  10th  of  the  calends  of  June.^^ 

*  The  municipal  bodies  of  Roman  towns  were  caUed  cutkb,  and 
the  members  of  those  bodies,  who  were  very  numerous,  were  called 
curiales. 

f  Constantine,  the  second  husband  of  Placidius,  whom  Honorius 
had  chosen  for  colleague  in  421 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  39 

The  provinces  and  the  towns  refused  the  benefit;  no  one 
would  nominate  the  deputies,  no  one  would  go  to  Aries. 
Centralization  and  unity  were  contrary  to  the  primitive 
character  of  that  society;  the  local  and  munificent  spirit 
reappeared  everywhere,  and  the  impossibility  of  reconsti- 
tuting a  general  society  or  country  became  evident.  The 
towns  confined  themselves,  each  to  its  own  walls  and  its  own 
affairs,  and  the  empire  fell  because  none  wished  to  be  of 
the  empire,  because  citizens  desired  to  be  only  of  their  own 
city.  Thus  we  again  discover,  at  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  the  same  fact  which  we  have  detected  in  the  cradle 
of  Eome,  namely,  the  predominance  of  the  municipal  form 
and  spirit.  The  Roman  world  had  returned  to  its  first 
condition;  towns  had  constituted  it;  it  dissolved;  and 
towns  remained. 

In  the  municipal  system  we  see  what  ancient  Roman 
civilization  has  bequeathed  to  modern  Europe;  that  system 
was  very  irregular,  much  weakened  and  far  inferior,  no 
doubt,  to  what  it  had  been  in  earlier  times;  but,  neverthe- 
less, the  only  real,  the  only  constituted  system  which  had 
outlived  all  the  elements  of  the  Roman  world. 

When  I  say  alojie  I  make  a  mistake.  Another  fact, 
another  idea  equally  survived:  the  idea  of  the  empire,  the 
name  of  emperor,  the  idea  of  imperial  majesty,  of  an  abso- 
lute and  sacred  power  attached  to  the  name  of  emperor. 
These  are  the  elements  which  Roman  has  transmitted  to 
European  civilization;  upon  one  hand,  the  municipal 
system,  its  habits,  rules,  precedents,  the  principle  of  free- 
dom; on  the  other,  a  general  and  uniform  civil  legislation, 
the  idea  of  absolute  power,  of  sacred  majesty,  of  the  em- 
peror, the  principle  of  order  and  subjection. 

But  there  was  formed  at  the  same  time,  in  the  heart  of 
the  Roman  society,  a  society  of  a  very  different  nature, 
founded  upon  totally  different  principles,  animated  by 
different  sentiments,  a  society  which  was  about  to  infuse 


40  HISTORY  OF 

into  modern  European  society  elements  of  a  character 
wholly  different;  I  speak  of  the  Christian  church,  I  say 
the  Christian  church,  and  not  Christianity.  At  the  end  of 
the  fourth  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century  Chris- 
tianity was  no  longer  merely  an  individual  belief,  it  was 
an  institution;  it  was  constituted;  it  had  its  government, 
a  clergy,  an  hierarchy  calculated  for  the  diiferent  functions 
of  the  clergy,  revenues,  means  of  independent  action,  rally- 
ing points  suited  for  a  great  society,  provincial,  national 
and  general  councils,  and  the  custom  of  debating  in 
common  upon  the  affairs  of  the  society.  In  a  word,  Chris- 
tianity, at  this  epoch,  was  not  only  a  religion,  it  was  also 
a  church. 

Had  it  not  been  a  church  I  cannot  say  what  might  have 
happened  to  it  amid  the  fall  of  the  Eoman  Empire.  I 
confine  myself  to  simply  human  considerations;  I  put 
aside  every  element  which  is  foreign  to  the  natural  con- 
sequences of  natural  facts:  had  Christianity  been,  as  in  the 
earlier  times,  no  more  than  a  belief,  a  sentiment,  an  indi- 
vidual conviction,  we  mav  believe  that  it  would  have  sunk 
amidst  the  dissolution  of  the  empire  and  the  invasion  of 
the  barbarians.  In  later  times,  in  Asia  and  in  all  the  north 
of  Africa,  it  sunk  under  an  invasion  of  the  same  nature, 
under  the  invasion  of  the  Moslem  barbarians;  it  sunk  then, 
although  it  subsisted  in  the  form  of  an  institution,  or  con- 
stituted church.  With  much  more  reason  might  the  same 
thing  have  happened  at  the  moment  of  the  fall  of  the 
Koman  Empire.  There  existed,  at  that  time,  none  of  those 
means  by  which,  in  the  present  day,  moral  influences 
establish  themselves  or  offer  resistance,  independently  of  in- 
stitutions; none  of  those  means  whereby  a  pure  truth,  a  pure 
idea  obtains  a  great  empire  over  minds,  governs  actions  and 
determines  events.  Nothing  of  the  kind  existed  in  the 
fourth  century  to  give  a  like  authority  to  ideas  and  to  per- 
sonal sentiments.     It  is  clear  that  a  society  strongly  organ- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  41 

ized  and  strongly  governed  was  indispensable  to  struggle 
against  such  a  disaster,  and  to  issue  victorious  from  such  a 
storm.  I  do  not  think  that  I  say  more  than  the  truth  in 
affirming  that  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  and  the  commence- 
ment of  the  fifth  centuries  it  was  the  Christian  church  that 
saved  Christianity;  it  was  the  church  with  its  institutions, 
its  magistrates  and  its  power,  that  vigorously  resisted  the 
internal  dissolution  of  the  empire  and  barbarism;  that 
conquered  the  barbarians  and  became  the  bond,  the 
medium  and  the  principle  of  civilization  between  the 
Koman  and  barbarian  worlds.  It  is,  then,  the  condition 
of  the  church  rather  than  that  of  religion,  properly  so 
called,  that  we  must  look  to  in  order  to  discover  what 
Christianity  has,  since  then,  added  to  modern  civilization, 
and  what  new  elements  it  has  introduced  therein.  What 
was  the  Christian  church  at  that  period  ? 

When  we  consider,  always  under  a  purely  human  point 
of  view,  the  various  revolutions  which  have  accomplished 
themselves  during  the  development  of  Christianity,  from 
the  time  of  its  origin  up  to  the  fifth  century;  if,  I  repeat, 
we  consider  it  simply  as  a  community  and  not  as  a  religious 
creed,  we  find  that  it  passed  through  three  essentially  dif- 
ferent states. 

In  the  very  earliest  period,  the  Christian  society  presents 
itself  as  a  simple  association  of  a  common  creed  and  com- 
mon sentiments;  the  first  Christians  united  to  enjoy 
together  the  same  emotions,  and  the  same  religious  con- 
victions.  We  find  among  them  no  system  of  determinate 
doctrines,  no  rules,  no  discipline,  no  body  of  magistrates. 

Of  course,  no  society,  however  newly  born,  however 
weakly  constituted  it  may  be,  exists  without  a  moral  power 
which  animates  and  directs  it.  In  the  various  Christian 
congregations  there  were  men  who  preached,  taught  and 
morally  governed  the  congregation,  but  thsre  was  no  formal 
magistrate,  no  recognized  discipline;  a  simple  association 


42  HISTORY  OF 

caused  by  a  community  of  creed  and  sentiments  was  the 
primitive  condition  of  the  Christian  society. 

In  proportion  as  it  advanced — and  very  speedily,  since 
traces  are  visible  in  the  earliest  monuments — a  body  of  doc- 
trines, of  rules,  of  discipline,  and  of  magistrates,  began  to 
appear;  one  kind  of  magistrates  were  called  7tpE6ftvTEfioi,  or 
ancientSy  who  became  the  priests;  another,  eTtidxoTtoi,  or 
inspectors,  or  superintendents,  who  became  bishops;  a 
third  diaxovoi,  or  deacons,  who  were  charged  with  the  care 
of  the  poor,  and  with  the  distribution  of  alms. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  determine  what  were  the  precise 
functions  of  these  various  magistrates;  the  line  of  demarca- 
tion was  probably  very  vague  and  variable,  but  what  is  clear 
is  that  an  establishment  was  organized.  Still,  a  peculiar 
character  prevails  in  this  second  period:  the  preponderance 
and  rule  belonged  to  the  body  of  the  faithful.  It  was  the 
body  of  the  faithful  which  prevailed,  both  as  to  the  choice 
of  functionaries,  and  as  to  the  adoption  of  discipline,  and 
even  doctrine.  The  church  government  and  the  Christian 
people  were  not  as  yet  separated.  They  did  not  exist  apart 
from,  and  independently  of,  one  another;  and  the  Chris- 
tian people  exercised  the  principal  influence  in  the  so- 
ciety. 

In  the  third  period  all  was  different.  A  clergy  existed 
who  were  distinct  from  the  people;  a  body  of  priests  who 
had  their  own  riches,  jurisdiction,  and  peculiar  constitu- 
tion; in  a  word,  an  entire  government,  which  in  itself  was 
a  complete  society,  a  society  provided  with  all  the  means 
of  existence,  independently  of  the  society  to  which  it  had 
reference,  and  over  which  it  extended  its  influence.  Such 
was  the  third  stage  of  the  constitution  of  the  Christian 
church;  such  was  the  form  in  which  it  appeared  at  the 
beginning  of  the  fifth  century.  The  government  was  not 
•completely  separated  from  the  people;  there  has  never  been 
a  parallel  kind  of  government,  end  less  in  religious  mat- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  43 

*»rs  than  in  any  others;  but  in  the  relations  of  the  clergy 
to  the  faithful,  the  clergy  ruled  almost  without   control. 

The  Christian  clergy  had  moreover  another  and  very 
different  source  of  influence.  The  bishops  and  the  priests 
became  the  principal  municipal  magistrates.  You  have 
seen,  that  of  the  Roman  Empire  there  remained,  properly 
speaking,  nothing  but  the  municipal  system.  It  had  hap- 
pened, from  the  vexations  of  despotism  and  the  ruin  of  the 
towns,  that  the  curiales,  or  members  of  the  municipal 
bodies,  had  become  discouraged  and  apathetic;  on  the  con- 
trary, the  bishops,  and  the  body  of  priests,  full  of  life  and 
zeal,  offered  themselves  naturally  for  the  superintendence 
and  direction  of  all  matters.  We  should  be  wrong  to 
reproach  them  for  this,  to  tax  them  with  usurpation;  it 
was  all  in  the  natural  course  of  things;  the  clergy  alone 
were  morally  strong  and  animated;  they  became  everywhere 
powerful.     Such  is  the  law  of  the  universe. 

The  marks  of  this  revolution  are  visible  in  all  the  legis- 
lation of  the  emperors  at  this  period.  If  you  open  the 
code,  either  of  Theodosius  or  of  Justinian,  you  will  find 
numerous  regulations  which  remit  municipal  affairs  to  the 
clergy  and  the  bishops.     Here  are  some  of  them: 

**  Cod,  Just,  I,  1,  tit.  IV,  de  episcopali  audientid,  §  26. 
—With  respect  to  the  yearly  affairs  of  cities,  whether  they 
concern  the  ordinary  revenues  of  the  city,  either  from 
funds  arising  from  the  property  of  the  city,  or  from  private 
gifts  or  legacies,  or  from  any  other  source;  whether  public 
works,  or  depots  of  provisions,  or  aqueducts,  or  the  main- 
tenance of  baths,  or  ports,  or  the  construction  of  walls  or 
towers,  or  the  repairing  of  bridges  or  roads,  or  trials  in 
which  the  city  may  be  engaged  in  reference  to  public  or 
private  interests,  we  ordain  as  follows:  The  very  pious 
bishop,  and  three  notables  chosen  from  among  the  first 
men  of  the  city,  shall  meet  together;  they  shall,  each  year, 
examine  the  works  done;  they  shall  take  care  that  those 


44  BISTORT  OF 

who  conduct  them,  or  who  have  conducted  them,  shall 
regulate  them  with  precision,  render  their  accounts,  and 
show  that  they  have  duly  performed  their  engagements  in 
the  administration,  whether  of  the  public  monuments,  or 
of  the  sums  appointed  for  provisions  or  baths,  or  of 
expenses  in  the  maintenance  of  roads,  aqueducts,  or  any 
other  work. 

'^  Ibid,  §  30. — With  regard  to  the  guardianship  of  young 
persons  of  the  first  or  second  age,  and  of  all  those  for  whom 
the  law  appoints  guardians,  if  their  fortune  does  not  exceed 
500  aurei,  we  ordain  that  the  nomination  of  the  president 
of  the  province  shall  not  be  waited  for,  as  this  gives  rise 
to  great  expenses,  particularly  if  the  said  president  do  not 
reside  in  the  city  in  which  it  is  necessary  to  provide  the 
guardianship.  The  nomination  of  guardians  shall  in  such 
case  be  made  by  the  magistrate  of  the  city  ...  in  con- 
cert with  the  very  pious  bishop  and  other  person  or  persons 
invested  with  public  oflices,  if  there  be  more  than  one. 

''  Ihid.  /.  1,  tit,  L  V,  de  defensoribus,  §  8. — We  desire 
that  the  defenders  of  the  cities,  being  well  instructed  in 
the  holy  mysteries  of  the  orthodox  faith,  be  chosen  and  in- 
stituted by  the  venerable  bishops,  the  priests,  the  notables, 
the  proprietors,  and  the  curiales.  As  regards  their  installa- 
tion, it  shall  be  referred  to  the  glorious  power  of  the  pre- 
torian  prefect,  in  order  that  their  authority  may  have  in- 
fused into  it  more  solidity  and  vigor  from  the  letters  of 
admission  of  his  Magnificence.^^ 

I  might  cite  a  great  number  of  other  laws,  and  you  would 
everywhere  meet  with  the  fact  which  I  have  mentioned: 
between  the  municipal  system  of  the  Eomans,  and  that  of 
the  middle  ages,  the  municipal-ecclesiastic  system  inter- 
posed; the  preponderance  of  the  clergy  in  the  affairs  of  the 
city  succeeded  that  of  the  ancient  municipal  magistrates, 
and  preceeded  the  organization  of  the  modern  municipal 
L'orporatioijg, 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  45 

You  perceive  what  prodigious  power  was  thus  obtained 
by  the  Christian  church,  as  well  by  its  own  constitution 
as  by  its  influence  upon  the  Christian  people,  and  by  the 
part  which  it  took  in  civil  affairs.  Thus,  from  that  epoch, 
it  powerfully  assisted  in  forming  the  character  and  further- 
ing the  development  of  modern  civilization.  Let  us 
endeavor  to  sum  up  the  elements  which  it  from  that  time 
introduced  into  it. 

And  first  of  all  there  was  an  immense  advantage  in  the 
presence  of  a  moral  influence,  of  a  moral  power,  of  a  power 
which  reposed  solely  upon  convictions  and  upon  moral 
creeds  and  sentiments,  amidst  the  deluge  of  material 
power  which  at  this  time  inundated  society.  Had  the 
Christian  church  not  existed,  the  whole  world  must  have 
been  abandoned  to  purely  material  force.  The  church  alone 
exercised  a  moral  power.  It  did  more:  it  sustained,  it 
spread  abroad  the  idea  of  a  rule,  of  a  law  superior  to  all 
human  laws.  It  proposed  for  the  salvation  of  humanity 
the  fundamental  belief  that  there  exists,  above  all  human 
laws,  a  law  which  is  denominated,  according  to  periods  and 
customs,  sometimes  reason,  sometimes  the  divine  law,  but 
which,  everywhere  and  always,  is  the  same  law  under  differ- 
ent names. 

In  short,  with  the  church  originated  a  great  fact,  the 
separation  of  spiritual  and  temporal  power.  This  separa- 
tion is  the  source  of  liberty  of  conscience;  it  is  founded  upon 
no  other  principle  but  that  which  is  the  foundation  of  the 
most  perfect  and  extended  freedom  of  conscience.  The 
separation  of  temporal  and  spiritual  power  is  based  upon 
the  idea  that  physical  force  has  neither  right  nor  influence 
over  souls,  over  conviction,  over  truth.  It  flows  from  the 
distinction  established  between  the  world  of  thought  and 
the  world  of  action,  between  the  world  of  internal  and  that 
of  external  facts.  Thus  this  principle  of  liberty  of  con- 
science for  which  Europe  has  struggled  so  much,  and  suf- 


46  HISTORY  OF 

fered  so  much,  this  principle  which  prevailed  so  late,  and 
often,  in  its  progress,  against  the  inclination  of  the  clergy, 
was  enunciated,  under  the  name  of  the  separation  of  tem- 
poral  and  spiritual  power,  in  the  very  cradle  of  European 
civilization;  and  it  was  the  Christian  church  which,  from 
the  necessity  imposed  by  its  situation  of  defending  itself 
against  barbarism,  introduced  and  maintained  it. 

The  presence,  then,  of  a  moral  influence,  the  mainte- 
nance of  a  divine  law,  and  the  separation  of  the  temporal 
and  spiritual  powers,  are  the  three  grand  benefits  which 
the  Christian  church  in  the  fifth  century  conferred  upon 
the  European  world. 

Even  at  that  time,  however,  all  its  influences  were  not 
equally  salutary.  Already,  in  the  fifth  century,  there  ap- 
peared in  the  church  certain  unwholesome  principles, 
which  have  played  a  great  part  in  the  development  of  our 
civilization.  Thus,  at  this  period,  there  prevailed  within 
it  the  separation  of  governors  and  the  governed,  the  at- 
tempt to  establish  the  independence  of  governors  as  regards 
the  governed,  to  impose  laws  upon  the  governed,  to  pos- 
sess their  mind,  their  life,  without  the  free  consent  of 
their  reason  and  of  their  will.  The  church,  moreover,  en- 
deavored to  render  the  theocratic  principle  predominant  in 
society,  to  usurp  the  temporal  power,  to  reign  exclusively. 
And  when  it  could  not  succeed  in  obtaining  temporal  do- 
minion, in  inducing  the  prevalence  of  the  theocratic  prin- 
ciple, it  allied  itself  with  temporal  princes,  and,  in  order 
to  share,  supported  their  absolute  power  at  the  expense  of 
the  liberty  of  the  people. 

Such  were  the  principles  of  civilization  which  Europe,  in 
the  fifth  centurv,  derived  from  the  church  and  from  the 
Empire.  It  was  in  this  condition  that  the  barbarians  found 
the  Eoman  world,  and  came  to  take  possession  of  it.  In 
order  to  fully  understand  all  the  elements  which  met  and 
mixed  in  the  cradle  of  our  civilization,  it  only  remains  for 
us  to  study  the  barbarians* 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  47 

When  I  speak  of  the  barbarians,  you  understand  that  we 
have  nothing  to  do  here  with  their  history;  narrative  is  not 
our  present  business.  You  know  that  at  this  period  the 
conquerors  of  the  Empire  were  nearly  all  of  the  same  race; 
they  were  all  Germans,  except  some  Sclavonic  tribes,  the 
Alani,  for  example.  We  know  also  that  they  were  all  in 
pretty  nearly  the  same  stage  of  civilization.  Some  differ- 
ence, indeed,  might  have  existed  between  them  in  this  re- 
spect, according  to  the  greater  or  less  degree  of  connection 
which  the  different  tribes  had  had  with  the  Roman  world. 
Thus,  no  doubt  the  Goths  were  more  advanced,  possessed 
milder  manners  than  the  Franks.  But  in  considering  mat- 
ters under  a  general  point  of  view,  and  in  their  results  as 
regards  ourselves,  this  original  difference  of  civilization 
among  the  barbarous  people  is  of  no  importance. 

It  is  the  general  condition  of  society  among  the  bar- 
barians that  we  need  to  understand.  But  this  is  a  subject 
with  which,  at  the  present  day,  it  is  very  difficult  to  make 
ourselves  acquainted.  We  obtain,  without  much  difficulty, 
a  comprehension  of  the  Roman  municipal  system,  of  the 
Christian  church;  their  influence  has  been  continued  up  to 
our  own  days.  We  find  traces  of  it  in  numerous  institu- 
tions and  actual  facts;  we  have  a  thousand  means  of  recog- 
nizing and  explaining  them.  But  the  customs  and  social 
condition  of  the  barbarians  have  completely  perished.  We 
are  compelled  to  make  them  out  either  from  the  earliest 
historical  monuments,  or  by  an  effort  of  the  imagination. 

There  is  a  sentiment,  a  fact  which,  before  all  things,  it 
is  necessary  that  we  should  well  undarstand  in  order  to 
represent  faithfully  to  one^sself  the  barbaric  character:  the 
pleasure  of  individual  independence;  the  pleasure  of  enjoy- 
ing one's  self  with  vigor  and  liberty,  amidst  the  chances  of 
the  world  and  of  life;  the  delights  of  activity  without 
labor;  the  taste  for  an  adventurous  career,  full  of  uncer- 
tainty, inequality  and  peril.     Such  was  the  predominating 


48  HISTORY  GF 

sentiment  of  the  barbarous  state,  the  moral  want  which 
put  in  motion  these  masses  of  human  beings.  In  the  pres- 
ent day,  locked  up  as  we  are  in  so  regular  a  society,  it  is 
difficult  to  realize  this  sentiment  to  one's  self  with  all  the 
power  which  it  exercised  over  the  barbarians  of  the  fourth 
and  fifth  centuries.  There  is  only  one  work  which,  in  my 
opinion,  contains  this  characteristic  of  barbarism  stamped 
in  all  its  energy — *'The  History  of  the  Conquest  of  England 
by  the  Normans, '^  of  M.  Thierry,  the  only  book  wherein 
the  motives,  tendencies  and  impulses  which  actuate  men  in 
a  social  condition,  bordering  on  barbarism,  are  felt  and  re- 
produced with  a  really  Homeric  faithfulness.  Nowhere 
else  do  we  see  so  well  the  nature  of  a  barbarian  and  of  the 
life  of  a  barbarian.  Something  of  this  sort  is  also  found, 
though,  in  my  opinion,  in  a  much  lower  degree,  with  much 
less  simplicity,  much  less  truth,  in  Cooper's  romances  upon 
the  savages  of  America.  There  is  something  in  the  life  of 
the  American  savages,  in  the  relations  and  the  sentiments 
they  bear  with  them  in  the  middle  of  the  woods,  that 
recalls,  up  to  a  certain  point,  the  manners  of  the  ancient 
Germans.  No  doubt  these  pictures  are  somewhat  ideal- 
ized, somewhat  poetic;  the  dark  side  of  the  barbaric 
manners  and  life  is  not  presented  to  us  in  all  its  gross- 
ness.  I  speak  not  only  of  the  evils  induced  by  these  man- 
ners upon  the  social  state,  but  of  the  internal  and  indi- 
vidual condition  of  the  barbarian  himself.  There  was 
within  this  passionate  want  of  personal  independence 
something  more  gross  and  more  material  than  one  would 
be  led  to  conceive  from  the  work  of  M.  Thierry;  there 
was  a  degree  of  brutality  and  of  apathy  which  is  not 
always  exactly  conveyed  by  his  recitals.  Nevertheless, 
when  we  look  to  the  bottom  of  the  question,  notwithstand- 
ing this  alloy  of  brutality,  of  materialism,  of  dull,  stupid 
selfishness,  the  love  of  independence  is  a  noble  and  a  moral 
sentiment,  which  draws  its  power  from  the  moral  nature  of 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE,  40 

man;  it  is  the  pleasure  of  feeling  one's  self  a  man,  the  senti- 
ment of  personality,  of  human  spontaneity,  in  its  free  de- 
velopment. 

It  was  through  the  German  barbarians  that  this  senti- 
ment was  introduced  into  European  civilization;  it  was 
unknown  in  the  Koman  world,  unknown  in  the  Christian 
church,  and  unknown  in  almost  all  the  ancient  civiliza- 
tions. When  you  find  liberty  in  ancient  civilizations,  it  is 
political  liberty,  the  liberty  of  the  citizen:  man  strove  not 
for  his  personal  liberty,  but  for  his  liberty  as  a  citizen:  he 
belonged  to  an  association,  he  was  devoted  to  an  associa- 
tion, he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  to  an  association. 
It  was  the  same  with  the  Christian  church:  a  sentiment  of 
strong  attachment  to  the  Christian  corporation,  of  devotion 
to  its  laws,  and  a  lively  desire  to  extend  its  empire;  or 
rather,  the  religious  sentiment  induced  a  reaction  of  man 
upon  himself,  upon  his  soul,  an  internal  effort  to  subdue 
his  own  liberty,  and  to  submit  himself  to  the  will  of  his 
faith.  But  the  sentiment  of  personal  independence,  a  love 
of  liberty  displaying  itself  at  all  risks,  without  any  other 
motive  but  that  of  satisfying  itself;  this  sentiment,  I  re- 
peat, was  unknown  to  the  Eoman  and  to  the  Christian 
society.  It  was  by  the  barbarians  that  it  was  brought  in 
and  deposited  in  the  cradle  of  modern  civilization,  wherein 
it  has  played  so  conspicuous  a  part,  has  produced  such 
worthy  results,  that  it  is  impossible  to  help  reckoning  it  as 
one  of  its  fundamental  elements. 

There  is  a  second  fact,  a  second  element  of  civilization, 
for  which  we  are  equally  indebted  to  the  barbarians:  this 
is  military  clientship;  the  bond  which  established  itself 
between  individuals,  between  warriors,  and  which,  without 
destroying  the  liberty  of  each,  without  even  in  the  begin- 
ning destroying,  beyond  a  certain  point,  the  equality  which 
almost  completely  existed  between  them,  nevertheless 
founded  an  hierarchical  subordination,  and  gave  birth  to 


50  HISTORY  OF 

that  aristocratical  organization  which  afterward  became 
feudalism.  The  foundation  of  this  relation  was  the  attach- 
ment of  man  to  man,  the  fidelity  of  individual  to  individ- 
ual, without  external  necessity,  and  without  obligation 
based  upoji  the  general  principles  of  society.  In  the 
ancient  republics  you  see  no  man  attached  freely  and 
especially  to  any  other  man;  they  were  all  attached  to 
the  city.  Among  the  barbarians  it  was  between  individ- 
uals that  the  social  bond  was  formed;  first  by  the  relation 
of  the  chief  to  his  companion,  when  they  lived  in  the  con- 
dition of  a  band  wandering  over  Europe;  and  later,  by 
the  relation  of  suzerain  to  vassal.  This  second  principle, 
which  has  played  so  great  a  part  in  the  history  of  modern 
civilization,  this  devotion  of  man  to  man,  came  to  us  from 
the  barbarians;  it  is  from  their  manners  that  it  has  passed 
into  ours. 

I  ask  you,  was  I  wrong  in  saying  at  the  beginning  that 
modern  civilizttion,  even  in  its  cradle,  had  been  as  varied, 
as  agitated  and  as  confused  as  I  have  endeavored  to  describe 
it  to  you  in  the  general  picture  I  have  given  you  of  it?  Is 
it  not  true  that  we  have  now  discovered,  at  the  fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  almost  all  the  elements  which  unite  in  the 
progressive  development  of  our  civilization  ?  We  have 
found,  at  that  time,  three  wholly  different  societies:  the 
municipal  society,  the  last  remains  of  the  Eoman  Empire, 
the  Christian  society,  and  the  barbaric  society.  We  find 
these  societies  very  variously  organized,  founded  upon 
totally  different  principles,  inspiring  men  with  wholly 
different  sentiments;  we  find  the  craving  after  the  most 
absolute  independence  side  by  side  with  the  most  complete 
submission;  military  patronage  side  by  side  with  ecclesias- 
tical dominion;  the  spiritual  and  temporal  powers  every- 
where present;  the  canons  of  the  church,  the  learned 
legislation  of  the  Romans,  the  almost  unwritten  customs 
of  the  barbarians:  everywhere  the  mixture,  or  rather  the 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  51 

co-existence  of  the  most  diverse  races,  languages,  social 
situations,  manners,  ideas  and  impressions.  Herein  I 
think  we  have  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  faithfulness  of  the 
general  character  under  which  I  have  endeavored  to  pre- 
sent our  civilization  to  you. 

No  doubt  this  confusion,  this  diversity,  this  struggle, 
have  cost  us  very  dear;  these  have  been  the  cause  of  the 
slow  progress  of  Europe,  of  the  storms  and  sufferings  to 
which  she  has  been  a  prey.  Nevertheless,  I  do  not  think 
we  need  regret  them.  To  people,  as  well  as  to  individuals, 
the  chance  of  the  most  complete  and  varied  development, 
the  chance  of  an  almost  unlimited  progress  in  all  direc- 
tions, compensates  of  itself  alone  for  all  that  it  may  cost  to 
obtain  the  right  of  casting  for  it.  And  all  things  con- 
sidered, this  state,  so  agitated,  so  toilsome,  so  violent,  has 
availed  much  more  than  the  simplicity  with  which  other 
civilizations  present  themselves;  the  human  race  has  gained 
thereby  more  than  it  has  suffered. 

We  are  now  acquainted  with  the  general  features  of  the 
condition  in  which  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire  left  the 
world;  we  are  acquainted  with  the  different  elements  which 
were  agitated  and  became  mingled,  in  order  to  give  birth  to 
European  civilization.  Henceforth  we  shall  see  them  ad- 
vancing and  acting  under  our  eyes.  In  the  next  lecture  I 
shall  endeavor  to  show  what  they  became,  and  what  they 
effected  in  the  epoch  which  we  are  accustomed  to  call  the 
times  of  barbarism;  that  is  to  say,  while  the  chaos  of  in- 
vasion yet  existed. 


52  HISTORY  OF 


THIRD    LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — All  the  various  systems  pretend  to  be  legiti- 
mate— What  is  political  legitimacy  ? — Co-existence  of  all  systems 
of  government  in  the  fifth  century — Instability  in  the  condition 
of  persons  properties,  and  institutions — There  were  two  causes 
of  this,  one  material,  the  continuation  of  the  invasion;  the  other 
moral,  the  selfish  sentiment  of  individuality  peculiar  to  the  bar- 
barians— The  germs  of  civilization  have  been  the  necessity  for 
order,  the  recollections  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  Christian 
church,  and  the  barbarians — Attempts  at  organization  by  the  bar- 
barians, by  the  towns,  by  the  church  of  Spain,  by  Charlemagne, 
and  Alfred — The  German  and  Arabian  invasions  cease — The 
feudal  system  begins. 

I  HAVE  placed  before  you  the  fundamental  elements  of 
European  civilization,  tracing  them  to  its  very  cradle,  at 
the  moment  of  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  I  have  en- 
deavored to  give  you  a  glimpse  beforehand  of  their  diversity, 
and  their  constant  struggle,  and  to  show  you  that  no  one 
of  them  succeeded  in  reigning  over  our  society,  or  at  least 
in  reigning  over  it  so  completely  as  to  enslave  or  expel  the 
others.  We  have  seen  that  this  was  the  distinguishing 
character  of  European  civilization.  We  now  come  to  its 
history  at  its  commencement,  in  the  ages  which  it  is  cus- 
tomary to  call  the  barbarous. 

At  the  first  glance  we  cast  upon  this  epoch  it  is  impossi- 
ble not  to  be  struck  with  a  fact  which  seems  to  contradict 
what  we  have  lately  said.  When  you  examine  certain 
notions  which  are  accredited  concerning  the  antiquities  of 
modern  Europe,  you  will  perceive  that  the  various  elements 
of  our  civilization,   the  monarchical,  theocratical,  ar^to- 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  53 

cratical,  and  democratical  principles,  all  pretend  that 
European  society  originally  belonged  to  them,  and  that  they 
have  only  lost  the  sole  dominion  by  the  usurpations  of 
contrary  principles.  Question  all  that  has  been  written, 
all  that  has  been  said  upon  this  subject,  and  you  will  see 
that  all  the  systems  whereby  our  beginnings  are  sought  to 
be  represented  or  explained  maintain  the  exclusive  predom- 
inance of  one  or  other  of  the  elements  of  European 
civilization. 

Thus  there  is  a  school  of  feudal  publicists,  of  whom  the 
most  celebrated  is  M.  de  Boulainvilliers,  who  pretend  that, 
after  the  fall  of  the  Eoman  Empire,  it  was  the  conquering 
nation,  subsequently  become  the  nobility,  which  possessed 
all  powers  and  rights;  that  society  was  its  domain;  that 
kings  and  peoples  have  despoiled  it  of  this  domain;  that  aris- 
tocratic organization  was  the  primitive  and  true  form  of 
Europe. 

Beside  this  school  you  will  find  that  of  the  monarchists, 
the  Abbe  Dubois,  for  instance,  who  maintain,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  it  was  to  royalty  European  society  belonged. 
The  German  kings,  say  they,  inherited  all  the  rights  of  the 
Eoman  emperors;  they  had  even  been  called  in  by  the 
ancient  nations;  the  Gauls  among  others;  they  alone  ruled 
legitimately;  all  the  acquisitions  of  the  aristocracy  were 
only  encroachments  upon  monarchy. 

A  third  party  presents  itself,  that  of  the  liberal  publicists, 
republicans,  democrats,  or  whatever  you  like  to  call  them. 
Consult  the  Abbe  de  Mably;  according  to  him,  it  is  to  the 
system  of  free  institutions,  to  the  association  of  free  men, 
to  the  people  properly  so  called,  that  the  government  of 
society  devolved  from  the  period  of  the  fifth  century:  nobles 
and  kings  enriched  themselves  with  the  spoils  of  primitive 
freedom;  it  sunk  beneath  their  attacks  indeed,  but  it  reigned 
before  them. 

And  above  all  these  monarchical,  aristocratical  and  pop- 


54  HISTORY  OF 

ular  pretensions  rises  the  theocratical  pretension  of  the 
church,  who  affirms-  that  in  virtue  of  her  very  mission,  of 
her  divine  title,  society  belonged  to  her;  that  she  alone  had 
the  right  to  govern  it;  that  she  alone  was  the  legitimate 
queen  of  the  European  world,  won  over  by  her  labors  to 
civilization  and  to  truth. 

See  then  the  position  in  which  we  are  placed !  We  fancied 
we  had  shown  that  no  one  of  the  elements  of  European 
civilization  had  exclusively  ruled  in  the  course  of  its  his- 
tory; that  those  elements  had  existed  in  a  constant  state  of 
vicinity,  of  amalgamation,  of  combat,  and  of  compromise; 
and  yet,  at  our  very  first  step,  we  meet  with  ^he  directly 
contrary  opinion,  that,  even  in  its  cradle,  in  the  bosom  of 
barbaric  Europe,  it  was  such  or  such  a  one  of  their  elements 
which  alone  possessed  society.  And  it  is  not  only  in  a  sin- 
gle country,  but  in  all  the  countries  of  Europe,  that, 
beneath  slightly  different  forms,  at  different  periods,  the 
various  principles  of  our  civilization  have  manifested  these 
irreconcilable  pretensions.  The  historical  schools  we  have 
just  characterized  are  to  be  met  with  everywhere. 

This  is  an  important  fact — important  not  in  itself,  but 
because  it  reveals  other  facts  which  hold  a  conspicuous 
place  in  our  history.  From  this  simultaneous  setting  forth 
of  the  most  opposite  pretensions  to  the  exclusive  possession 
of  power  in  the  first  age  of  modern  Europe  two  remarkable 
facts  become  apparent.  The  first  the  principle,  the  idea  of 
political  legitimacy;  an  idea  which  has  played  a  great  part 
in  the  course  of  European  civilization.  The  second  the 
veritable  and  peculiar  character  of  the  condition  of  barbaric- 
Europe,  of  that  epoch  with  which  we  are  at  present  espe- 
cially concerned. 

I  shall  endeavor  to  demonstrate  these  two  facts,  to  deduce 
them  successively  from  this  combat  of  primitive  pretensions 
which  I  have  just  described. 

What  do  the  various  elements  of  European  civilization. 


GIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  55 

the  theocratical,  monarchical,  aristocratical  and  popular 
elements  pretend  to,  when  they  wish  to  appear  the  first 
who  possessed  society  in  Europe?  Do  they  not  thus  pre- 
tend to  have  been  alone  legitimate?  Political  legitimacy  is 
evidently  a  right  founded  upon  antiquity,  upon  duration; 
priority  in  time  is  appealed  to  as  the  source  of  the  right,  as 
the  proof  of  the  legitimacy  of  power.  And  observe,  I  pray 
you,  that  this  pretension  is  not  peculiar  to  any  one  system, 
to  any  one  element  of  our  civilization;  it  extends  to  all.  In 
modern  times  we  are  accustomed  to  consider  the  idea  of 
legitimacy  as  existing  in  only  one  system,  the  monarchical. 
In  this  we  are  mistaken;  it  is  discoverable  in  all.  You  have 
already  seen  that  all  the  elements  of  our  civilization  have 
equally  desired  to  appropriate  it.  If  we  enter  into  the  sub- 
sequent history  of  Europe,  we  shall  find  the  most  different 
social  forms  and  governments  equally  in  possession  of  their 
character  of  legitimacy.  The  Italian  and  Swiss  aristocra- 
cies and  democracies,  the  republic  of  San  Marino,  as  well 
as  the  greatest  monarchies  of  Europe,  have  called  them- 
selves, and  have  been  regarded  as  legitimate;  the  former, 
like  the  latter,  have  founded  their  pretension  to  legitimacy 
upon  the  antiquity  of  their  institutions  and  upon  the 
historical  priority  and  perpetuity  of  their  system  of 
government. 

If  you  leave  Europe  and  direct  your  attention  to  other 
times  and  other  countries,  you  everywhere  meet  with  this 
idea  of  political  legitimacy;  you  find  it  attaching  itself 
everywhere  to  some  portion  of  the  government,  to  some  in- 
stitution, form,  or  maxim.  There  has  been  no  country, 
and  no  time,  in  which  there  has  not  existed  a  certain  por- 
tion of  the  social  system,  public  powers;  which  has  not 
attributed  to  itself,  and  in  which  has  not  been  recognized 
this  character  of  legitimacy,  derived  from  antiquity  and 
long  duration. 

What  is  this  principle?  what  are  its  elements?  how  has 
it  introduced  itself  into  European  civilization? 


56  HISTORY  OF 

At  the  origin  of  all  powers,  I  say  of  all  without  any  dis- 
tinction, we  meet  with  physical  force.  I  do  not  mean  to 
state  that  force  alone  has  founded  them  all,  or  that  if,  in 
their  origin,  they  had  not  had  other  titles  than  that  of 
force,  they  would  have  been  established.  Other  titles  are 
manifestly  necessary;  powers  have  become  established  in 
consequence  of  certain  social  expediences,  of  certain  refer- 
ences to  the  state  of  society,  manners,  and  opinions.  But 
it  is  impossible  to  avoid  perceiving  that  physical  force  has 
stained  the  origin  of  all  the  powers  of  the  world,  whatever 
may  have  been  their  character  and  form. 

Yet  none  will  have  anything  to  say  to  this  origin;  all 
powers,  whatever  they  may  be,  reject  it;  none  will  admit 
themselves  the  offspring  of  force.  An  unconquerable  in- 
stinct warns  governments  that  force  does  not  found  right, 
and  that  if  force  was  their  origin,  their  right  could  never 
be  established.  This,  then,  is  the  reason  why,  when  we  go 
back  to  early  times,  and  there  find  the  various  systems  and 
powers  a  prey  to  violence,  all  exclaim,  ^^I  was  anterior  to 
all  this,  I  existed  previously,  in  virtue  of  other  titles; 
society  belonged  to  me  before  this  state  of  violence  and 
struggle  in  which  you  meet  with  me;  I  was  legitimate,  but 
others  contested  and  seized  my  rights. ^^ 

This  fact  alone  proves  that  the  idea  of  force  is  not  the 
foundation  of  political  legitimacy,  but  that  it  reposes  upon 
a  totally  different  basis.  What,  indeed,  is  done  by  all 
these  systems  in  thus  formally  disavowing  force?  They 
themselves  proclaim  that  there  is  another  kind  of  legiti- 
macy, the  true  foundation  of  all  others,  the  legitimacy  of 
reason,  justice,  and  right;  and  this  is  the  origin  with  which 
they  desire  to  connect  themselves.  It  is  because  they  wish 
it  not  to  be  supposed  that  they  are  the  offspring  of  force, 
that  they  pretend  to  be  invested  in  the  name  of  their  an- 
tiquity with  a  different  title.  The  first  cliaracteristic 
then,  of  political  legitimacy,  is  to  reject  physical  force  as  a 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  57 

souree  of  power,  and  to  connect  it  with  a  moral  idea, 
Avith  a  moral  force,  with  the  idea  of  right,  of  justice, 
and  of  reason.  This  is  the  fundamental  element  from 
which  the  principle  of  political  legitimacy  has  issued.  It 
has  issued  thence  by  the  help  of  antiquity  and  long  dura- 
tion.    And  in  this  manner: 

After  physical  force  has  presided  at  the  birth  Of  all  gov- 
ernments, of  all  societies,  time  progresses;  it  alters  the 
works  of  force,  it  corrects  them,  corrects  them  by  the  very 
fact  that  a  society  endures,  and  is  composed  of  men.  Man 
carries  within  himself  certain  notions  of  order,  justice  and 
reason,  a  certain  desire  to  induce  their  prevalence,  to  in- 
troduce them  into  the  circumstances  among  which  he  lives; 
he  labors  unceasingly  at  this  task;  and  if  the  social  condi- 
tion in  which  he  is  placed  continues,  he  labors  always  with 
a  certain  effect.  Man  places  reason,  morality  and  legiti- 
macy in  the  world  in  which  he  lives. 

Independently  of  the  work  of  man,  by  a  law  of  Provi- 
dence which  it  is  impossible  to  mistake,  a  law  analogous  to 
that  which  regulates  the  material  world,  there  is  a  certain 
measure  of  order,  reason  and  justice,  which  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  the  duration  of  a  society.  From  the  single 
fact  of  its  duration,  we  may  conclude  that  a  society  is  not 
wholly  absurd,  insensate  and  iniquitous;  that  it  is  not 
utterly  deprived  of  that  element  of  reason,  truth  and  jus* 
tice  which  alone  gives  life  to  societies.  If,  moreover,  tlid 
society  develops  itself,  if  it  becomes  more  vigorous  and 
more  powerful,  if  the  social  condition  from  day  to  day  is 
accepted  by  a  greater  number  of  men,  it  is  because  it 
gathers  by  the  action  of  time  more  reason,  justice  and 
right;  because  circumstances  regulate  themselves,  step  by 
step,  according  to  true  legitimacy. 

Thus  the  idea  of  political  legitimacy  penetrates  the 
world,  and  men's  minds,  from  the  world.  It  has  for  its 
foundation  and  first  origin,  in  a  certain  measure  at  leasts 


58  HISTORY  OF 

moral  legitimacy,  justice,  reason,  and  truth,  and  afterward 
the  sanction  of  time,  which  gives  cause  for  believing  that 
reason  has  won  entrance  into  facts,  and  that  true  legitimacy 
has  been  introduced  into  the  external  world.  At  the  epoch 
which  we  are  about  to  study,  we  shall  find  force  and  false- 
<hood  hovering  over  the  cradle  of  royalty,  of  aristocracy,  of 
democracy,  and  of  the  church  herself;  you  will  everywhere 
behold  force  and  falsehood  reforming  themselves,  little  by 
little,  under  the  hand  of  time,  right  and  truth  taking  their 
places  in  civilization.  It  is  this  introduction  of  right  and 
truth  into  the  social  state,  which  has  developed,  step  by 
step,  the  idea  of  political  legitimacy;  it  is  thus  that  it  has 
been  established  in  modern  civilization. 

When,  therefore,  attempts  have  at  different  timf^s  been 
made  to  raise  this  idea  as  the  banner  of  absolute  power,  it 
has  been  perverted  from  its  true  origin.  So  far  is  it  from 
being  the  banner  of  absolute  power,  that  it  is  only  in  the 
name  of  right  and  justice  that  it  has  penetrated  and  taken 
root  in  the  world.  It  is  not  exclusive;  it  belongs  to  no  one 
in  particular,  but  springs  up  wherever  right  develops  itself. 
Political  legitimacy  attaches  itself  to  liberty  as  well  as  to 
power;  to  individual  rights  as  well  as  to  the  forms  accord- 
ing to  which  public  functions  are  exercised.  We  shall  meet 
with  it,  in  our  way,  in  the  most  contrary  systems;  in  the 
feudal  system,  in  the  municipalities  of  Flanders  and  Ger- 
many, in  the  Italian  republics,  no  less  than  in  monarchy. 
It  is  a  character  spread  over  the  various  elements  of  modern 
civilization,  and  which  it  is  necessary  to  understand  thor- 
oughly on  entering  upon  its  history. 

The  second  fact  which  clearly  reveals  itself  in  the  simul- 
taneous pretensions  of  which  I  spoke  in  the  beginning,  is 
the  true  character  of  the  so-called  barbarian  epoch.  All 
the  elements  of  European  civilization  pretend  at  this  time 
to  have  possessed  Europe;  it  follows  that  neither  of  them 
predominated.     When  a  social  form  predominates  in  the 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  59 

world,  it  is  not  so  difficult  to  recognize  it.  On  coming  to  the 
tenth  century  we  shall  recognize,  without  hesitation,  the 
predominance  of  the  feudal  system;  in  the  seventeenth 
century  we  shall  not  hesitate  to  affirm  that  the  monarchi- 
cal system  prevails;  if  we  look  to  the  municipalities  of 
Flanders,  to  the  Italian  republics,  we  shall  immediately  de- 
clare the  empire  of  the  democratic  principle.  When  there 
is  really  any  predominating  principle  in  society,  it  is  im- 
possible to  mistake  it. 

The  dispute  which  has  arisen  between  the  various  sys- 
tems that  have  had  a  share  in  European  civilization,  upon 
the  question,  which  predominated  at  its  origin,  proves, 
then,  that  they  all  co-existed,  without  any  one  of  them 
prevailing  generally  enough,  or  certainly  enough  to  give  to 
society  its  form  and  its  name. 

Such,  then,  is  the  character  of  the  barbarian  epoch;  it 
was  the  chaos  of  all  elements,  the  infancy  of  all  systems, 
an  universal  turmoil,  in  which  even  strife  was  not  perma- 
nent or  systematic.  By  examining  all  the  aspects  of  the 
social  state  at  this  period,  I  might  show  you  that  it  is  im- 
possible anywhere  to  discover  a  single  fact,  or  a  single 
principle,  which  was  anything  like  general  or  established. 
I  shall  confine  myself  to  two  essential  points:  the  condition 
of  individuals,  and  the  condition  of  institutions.  That 
will  be  enough  to  paint  the  entire  society. 

At  this  period  we  meet  with  four  classes  of  persons — 1. 
The  free  men;  that  is  to  say,  those  who  depended  upon  no 
superior,  upon  no  patron,  and  who  possessed  their  property 
and  regulated  their  life  in  complete  liberty,  without  any 
bond  of  obligation  to  any  other  man.  2.  The  leudes, 
fideleSy  anstrustions,  etc.,  bound  at  first  by  the  relation  of 
companion  to  chief,  and  afterward  by  that  of  vassal  to 
suzerain,  to  another  man,  toward  whom,  on  account  of  a 
grant  of  lands,  or  other  gifts,  they  had  contracted  the 
obligation  of  service.     3.  The  freedman,     4.  The  slaves. 


60  HISTORY  om 

But  were  these  various  classes  fixed?  Did  men,  when 
once  they  were  inclosed  in  their  limits,  remain  there?  Had 
the  relations  of  the  various  classes  anything  of  regularity 
and  permanence?  By  no  means.  You  constantly  behold 
freemen  who  leave  their  position  to  place  themselves  in  the 
service  of  some  one,  receiving  from  him  some  gift  or  other, 
and  passing  into  the  class  of  leudes;  others  you  see  who 
fall  into  the  class  of  slaves.  Elsewhere  leudes  are  seen 
struggling  to  separate  themselves  from  their  patrons,  to 
again  become  independent,  to  re-enter  the  class  of  free- 
men. Everywhere  you  behold  a  movement,  a  continual 
passage  of  one  class  into  another;  an  uncertainty,  a  general 
instability  in  the  relations  of  the  classes;  no  man  remain- 
ing in  his  position,  no  position  remaining  the  same. 

Landed  properties  were  in  the  same  condition.  You 
know  that  these  were  distinguished  as  allodial,  or  wholly 
free,  and  beneficiary,  or  subject  to  certain  obligations  with 
regard  to  a  superior:  you  know  how  an  attempt  has  been 
made  to  establish,  in  this  last  class  of  properties,  a  precise 
and  defined  system;  it  has  been  said  that  the  benefices 
were  at  first  given  for  a  certain  determinate  number  of 
years,  afterward  for  life,  and  that  finally  they  became 
hereditary.  A  vain  attempt!  All  these  kinds  of  tenure 
existed  without  order  and  simultaneously;  we  meet,  at  the 
same  moment,  with  benefices  for  a  fixed  time,  for  life,  and 
heredity;  the  same  lands,  indeed,  passed  in  a  few  years 
through  these  different  states.  There  was  nothing  more' 
stable  in  the  condition  of  lands  than  in  that  of  individ- 
uals. On  all  sides  was  felt  the  laborious  transition  of  the 
wandering  to  the  sedentary  life,  of  personal  relations  to  the 
combined  relations  of  men  and  properties,  or  to  real  lela- 
tions.  During  this  transition  all  is  confused,  local  and 
disordered. 

In  the  institutions  we  find  the  same  instability,  the 
same  chaos.     Three  systems  of  institutionsu30-existed'  roy- 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  61 

alty;  aristocratic  institutions,  or  the  dependence  of  men 
and  lands  one  upon  another;  and  free  institutions,  that  is 
to  say,  the  assemblies  of  free  men  deliberating  in  common. 
Neither  of  these  systems  was  in  possession  of  society; 
neither  of  them  prevailed  over  the  others.  Free  institu- 
tions existed,  but  the  men  who  should  have  taken  part  in 
the  assemblies  rarely  attended  them.  The  signorial  juris- 
diction was  not  more  regularly  exercised.  Eoyalty,  which 
is  the  simplest  of  institutions,  and  the  ea^^iest  to  determine, 
had  no  fixed  character;  it  was  partly  elective,  partly  hered- 
itary. Sometimes  the  son  succeeded  the  father;  sometimes 
a  selection  was  made  from  the  family;  sometimes  it  was  a 
simple  election  of  a  distant  relation,  or  of  a  stranger.  In 
no  system  will  you  find  anything  fixed;  all  institutions,  as 
well  as  all  social  situations,  existed  together,  became  con- 
founded, and  were  continually  changing. 

In  states  the  same  fluctuation  prevailed:  they  were 
erected  and  suppressed,  united  and  divided;  there  were  no 
boundaries,  no  governments,  no  distant  people;  but  a  gen- 
eral confusion  of  situations,  principles,  facts,  races  and 
languages;  such  was  barbarous  Europe. 

Within  what  limits  is  this  strange  period  bounded?  Its 
origin  is  well  marked,  it  begins  with  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire.  But  when  did  it  conclude?  In  order  to  answer 
this  question,  we  must  learn  to  what  this  condition  of  soci- 
ety is  to  be  attributed,  what  were  the  causes  of  this 
barbarism. 

I  think  I  can  perceive  two  principal  causes:  the  one 
material,  arising  from  without,  in  the  course  of  events; 
the  other  moral,  originating  from  within,  from  man 
himself. 

The  material  cause  was  the  continuation  of  the  invasion. 
We  must  not  fancy  that  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians 
ceased  in  the  fifth  century;  we  must  not  think  that, 
because  Rome  was  fallen,  we  shall  immediately  find  the 


62  HISTORY  OF 

barbaric  kingdoms  founded  upon  its  ruins,  or  that  the 
movement  was  at  an  end.  This  movement  lasted  long 
after  the  fall  of  the  empire;  the  proofs  of  this  are  manifest. 
See  the  Frank  kings,  even  of  the  first  race,  called  con- 
tinually to  make  war  beyond  the  Rhine;  Clotaire,  Dago- 
bert  constantly  engaged  in  expeditions  into  Germany, 
fighting  against  the  Thuringians,  Danes  and  Saxons,  who 
occupied  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine.  Wherefore? 
Because  these  nations  wished  to  cross  the  river,  to  come 
and  take  their  share  of  the  spoils  of  the  empire.  Whence, 
about  the  same  time,  those  great  invasions  of  Italy  by  the 
Franks  established  in  Gaul,  and  principally  by  the  Eastern 
or  Austrasian  Franks?  They  attacked  Switzerland;  passed 
the  Alps;  entered  Italy.  Why?  Because  they  were 
pressed,  on  the  northeast,  by  new  populations;  their  expe- 
ditions were  not  merely  forays  for  pillage,  they  were  mat- 
ters of  necessity;  they  were  disturbed  in  their  settlements, 
and  went  elsewhere  to  seek  their  fortune.  A  new  Ger- 
manic nation  appeared  upon  the  stage,  and  founded  in 
Italy  the  kingdom  of  Lombard3\  In  Gaul,  the  Frank 
dynasty  changed;  the  Carlo vingians  succeeded  the  Merov- 
ingians. It  is  now  acknowledged  that  this  change  of 
dynasty  was,  to  say  the  truth,  a  fresh  invasion  of  Gaul  by 
the  Franks,  a  movement  of  nations  which  substituted  the 
eastern  for  the  western  Franks.  The  change  was  com- 
pleted; the  second  race  now  governed.  Charlemangne 
'*/Ommenced  against  the  Saxons  what  the  Merovingians  had 
lone  against  the  Thuringians;  he  was  incessantly 
engaged  in  war  against  the  nations  beyond  the  Rhine. 
Who  urged  these  on?  The  Obotrites,  the  Wiltzes,  the 
Sorabes,  the  Bohemians,  the  entire  Sclavonic  race  which 
pressed  upon  the  Germanic,  and  from  the  sixth  to  the 
ninth  century  compelled  it  to  advance  toward  the  west. 
Everywhere  to  the  northeast  the  movement  of  invasio» 
continued  and  determined  events. 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE,  63 

In  the  south,  a  movement  of  the  same  nature  exhibited 
itself:  the  Moslem  Arabs  appeared.  While  the  Germanic 
and  Sclavonic  people  pressed  on  along  the  Rhine  and  Dan- 
ube, the  Arabs  begun  their  expeditions  and  conquests  upon 
all  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean. 

1  The  invasion  of  the  Arabs  had  a  peculiar  character.  The 
spirit  of  conquest  and  the  spirit  of  proselytism  were  united. 
The  invasion  was  to  conquer  a  territory  and  disseminate  a 
faith.  There  was  a  great  difference  between  this  move- 
ment and  that  of  the  Germans.  In  the  Christian  world, 
the  spiritual  and  temporal  powers  were  distinct.  The 
desire  of  propagating  a  creed  and  making  a  conquest  did 
not  co-exist  in  the  same  men.  The  Germans,  when  they 
became  converted,  preserved  their  manners,  sentiments 
and  tastes;  terrestrial  passions  and  interests  continued  to 
rule  them;  they  became  Christians,  but  not  missionaries. 
The  Arabs,  on  the  contrary,  were  both  conquerers  and 
missionaries;  the  power  of  the  sword  and  that  of  the  word, 
with  them,  were  in  the  same  hands.  At  a  later  period, 
this  character  determined  the  unfortunate  turn  taken  by 
Mussulman  civilization;  it  is  in  the  combination  of  the 
spiritual  and  temporal  powers,  in  the  confusion  of  moral 
and  material  authority,  that  the  tyranny  which  seems  in- 
herent in  that  civilization  originated.  This  I  conceive  to 
be  the  cause  of  the  stationary  condition  into  which  that 
civilization  is  everywhere  fallen.  But  the  fact  did  not 
make  its  appearance  at  first;  on  the  contrary,,  it  added 
prodigious  force  to  the  Arab  invasion.  Undertaken  with 
moral  passions  and  ideas,  it  immediately  obtained  a  splen- 
dor and  a  greatness  which  was  wanting  to  the  German  in- 
vasion; it  exhibited  far  more  energy  and  enthusiasm,  and 
far  differently  influenced  the  minds  of  men. 

Such  was  the  state  of  Europe  from  the  fifth  to  the 
ninth  century;  pressed  on  the  south  by  the  Mahometans, 
on  the  north  by  the  Germans  and  the  Sclavonic  tribes,  it 


64.  EI8T0RT  OP 

was  scarcely  possible  that  the  reaction  of  this  double  inya- 
sion  should  do  other  than  hold  the  interior  of  Europe  in 
continual  disorder.  The  populations  were  constantly  being 
displaced,  and  forced  one  upon  the  other;  nothing  of  a 
fixed  character  could  be  established;  the  wandering  life 
recommenced  on  all  sides.  There  was,  no  doubt,  some  dif- 
ference in  this  respect  in  the  different  states:  the  chaos  was 
greater  in  Germany  than  in  the  rest  of  Europe,  Germany 
being  the  focus  of  the  movement;  France  was  more  agitated 
than  Italy.  But  in  no  place  could  society  settle  or  regulate 
itself;  barbarism  continued  on  all  sides  from  the  same 
cause  that  had  originated  it. 

So  much  for  the  material  cause,  that  which  arose  from 
the  course  of  events.  I  now  come  to  the  moral  cause, 
which  sprang  from  the  internal  condition  of  man,  and 
which  was  no  less  powerful. 

After  all,  whatever  external  events  may  be,  it  is  man 
himself  who  makes  the  world;  it  is  in  proportion  to  the 
ideas,  sentiments  and  dispositions,  moral  and  intellectual, 
of  man,  that  the  world  becomes  regulated  and  progressive; 
it  is  upon  the  internal  condition  of  man  that  the  visible 
condition  of  society  depends. 

What  is  required  to  enable  men  to  found  a  society  with 
any  thing  of  durability  and  regularity?  It  is  evidently 
necessary  that  they  should  have  a  certain  number  of  ideas 
sufficiently  extended  to  suit  that  society,  to  apply  to  its 
wants,  to  its  relations.  It  is  necessary,  moreover,  that 
these  ideas  should  be  common  to  the  greater  number  of 
the  members  of  the  society;  finally,  that  they  should  exer- 
cise a  certain  empire  over  their  wills  and  actions. 

It  is  clear,  that  if  men  have  no  ideas  extending  beyond 
their  own  existence,  if  their  intellectual  horizon  is  confined 
to  themselves,  if  they  are  abandoned  to  the  tempest  of  their 
passions  and  their  wills,  if  they  have  not  among  them  a 
certain   number  of  notions  and   sentiments  in   common 


CIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE,  65 

around  which  to  rally,  it  is  clear,  I  say,  that  between  them 
no  society  is  possible,  and  that  each  individual  must  be  a 
principle  of  disturbance  and  dissolution  to  any  association 
which  he  may  enter. 

Wherever  individuality  predominates  almost  exclusively, 
wherever  man  considers  no  one  but  himself,  and  his  ideas 
do  not  extend  beyond  himself,  and  he  obeys  nothing  but 
his  own  passions,  society  (I  mean  a  society  somewhat  ex- 
tended and  permanent)  becomes  for  him  almost  impossible. 
Such,  however,  was  the  moral  condition  of  the  conquerors 
of  Europe,  at  the  time  upon  which  we  are  now  occupied.  I 
remarked  in  my  last  lecture  that  we  are  indebted  to  the 
Germans  for  an  energetic  sentiment  of  individual  liberty, 
of  human  individuality.  But  in  a  state  of  extreme  barba- 
rism and  ignorance  this  sentiment  becomes  selfishness  in  all 
its  brutality,  and  in  all  its  insociability.  From  the  fifth  to 
the  eighth  century  it  was  at  tliis  point  among  the  Germans. 
They  cared  only  for  their  own  interests,  their  own  pas- 
sions, their  own  will:  how  could  they  be  reconciled  to  a 
condition  even  approximating  to  the  social?  Attempts 
were  made  to  prevail  upon  them  to  enter  it;  they  attempted 
to  do  so  themselves.  But  they  immediately  abandoned  it 
by  some  act  of  carelessness,  some  burst  of  passion,  some 
want  of  intelligence.  Constantly  did  society  attempt  to 
form  itself;  constantly  was  it  destroyed  by  the  act  of  man, 
by  the  absence  of  the  moral  conditions  under  which  alone 
it  can  exist. 

Such  were  the  two  determining  causes  of  the  barbarous 
state.  So  long  as  these  were  prolonged,  barbarism  endured. 
Let  us  see  how  and  when  they  at  last  terminated. 

Europe  labored  to  escape  from  this  condition.  It  is  in 
the  nature  of  man,  even  when  he  has  been  plunged  into 
Buch  a  condition  by  his  own  fault,  not  to  desire  to  remain 
in  it.  However  rude,  however  ignorant,  however  devoted 
to  his  own  interests  and  to  his  own  passions  he  may  be. 


06  HISTORY  OF 

there  is  within  him  a  voice  and  an  instinct  which  tells  him 
that  he  was  made  for  better  things,  that  he  has  other 
powers,  another  destiny.  In  the  midst  of  disorder,  the 
love  of  order  and  of  progress  pursues  and  harasses  him. 
The  need  of  justice,  foresight,  development,  agitates  him 
even  under  the  voke  of  the  most  brutal  selfishness.  He 
feels  himself  impelled  to  reform  the  material  world,  and 
society,  and  himself;  and  he  labors  to  do  this,  though 
unaware  of  the  nature  of  the  want  which  urges  him.  The 
barbarians  aspired  after  civilization,  while  totally  incapable 
of  it,  nay  more,  detesting  it  from  the  instant  that  they  be- 
came acquainted  with  its  law. 

There  remained,  moreover,  consi(Jerable  wrecks  of  the 
Koman  civilization.  The  name  of  the  Empire,  the  recol- 
lection of  that  great  and  glorious  society,  disturbed  the 
memories  of  men,  particularly  of  the  senators  of  towns, 
of  bishops,  priests,  and  all  those  who  had  had  their  origin 
in  the  Koman  world. 

Among  the  barbarians  themselves,  or  their  barbaric  an- 
cestors, many  had  been  witnesses  of  the  grandeur  of  the 
Empire;  they  had  served  in  its  armies,  they  had  conquered 
it.  The  image  and  name  of  Koman  civilization  had  an 
imposing  influence  upon  them,  and  they  experienced  the 
desire  of  imitating,  of  reproducing,  of  preserving  some- 
thing of  it.  This  was  another  cause  which  urged  them  to 
quit  the  condition  of  barbarism  I  have  described. 

There  was  a  third  cause  which  suggests  itself  to  every 
mind;  I  mean  the  Christian  church.  The  church  was  a 
society  regularly  constituted,  having  its  principles,  its  rules, 
and  its  discipline,  and  experiencing  an  ardent  desire  to 
extend  its  influence  and  conquer  its  conquerors.  Among 
the  Christians  of  this  period,  among  the  Christian  clergy 
there  were  men  who  had  thought  upon  all  moral  and 
political  questions,  who  had  decided  opinions  and  energetic 
sentiments  upon  all  subjects,  and  a  vivid  desire  to  propa- 


CIYILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  67 

gate  and  give  them  empire.  Never  has  any  other  society 
made  such  efforts  to  influence  the  surrounding  world,  and 
to  stamp  thereon  its  own  likeness,  as  were  made  by  the 
Christian  church  between  the  fifth  and  the  tenth  centuries. 
When  we  come  to  study  its  particular  history,  we  shall  see 
all  that  it  has  done.  It  attacked  barbarism,  as  it  were,  at 
every  point,  in  order  to  civilize  by  ruling  over  it. 

Finally,  there  was  a  fourth  cause  of  civilization,  a  cause 
which  it  is  impossible  fitly  to  appreciate,  but  which  is  not 
therefore  the  less  real,  and  this  is  the  appearance  of  great 
men.  No  oue  can  say  why  a  great  man  appears  at  a  certain 
epoch,  and  what  he  adds  to  the  development  of  the  world; 
that  is  a  secret  of  Providence:  but  the  fact  is  not  therefore 
less  certain.  There  are  men  whom  the  spectacle  of  an- 
archy and  social  stagnation,  strikes  and  revolts,  who  are  in- 
tellectually shocked  therewith  as  with  a  fact  which  ought 
not  to  exist,  and  are  possessed  with  an  unconquerable  de- 
sire of  changing  it,  a  desire  of  giving  some  rule, 
somewhat  of  the  general,  regular  and  permanent  to 
the  world  before  them.  A  terrible  and  often  tyran- 
nical power,  which  commits  a  thousand  crimes,  a 
thousand  errors,  for  human  weakness  attends  it;  a  power, 
nevertheless,  glorious  and  salutary,  for  it  gives  to  human- 
ity, and  with  the  hand  of  man,  a  vigorous  impulse  forward, 
a  mighty  movement. 

These  different  causes  and  forces  led,  between  the  fifth 
and  ninth  century,  to  various  attempts  at  extricating 
European  society  from  barbarism. 

The  first  attempt,  which,  although  but  slightly  effective, 
must  not  be  overlooked,  since  it  emanated  from  the  bar- 
barians themselves,  was  the  drawing  up  of  the  barbaric 
laws:  between  the  sixth  and  eighth  centuries  the  laws  of 
almost  all  the  barbarous  people  were  written.  Before  this 
they  had  not  been  written;  the  barbarians  had  been  gov- 
erned simply  by  customs,  until  they  estaU'shed  themselves 


68  HISTORY  OF 

upon  the  ruins  of  the  Roman  empire.  We  may  reckon 
the  laws  of  the  Burgundians,  of  the  Salian  and  Ripuarian 
Franks,  of  the  Visigoths,  of  the  Lombards,  the  Saxons, 
the  Frisons,  the  Bavarians,  the  Alemanni,  etc.  Here  was 
manifestly  a  beginning  of  civilization;  an  endeavor  to  bring 
society  under  general  and  regular  principles.  The  success 
of  this  attempt  could  not  be  great;  it  was  writing  the  laws 
of  a  society  which  no  longer  existed,  the  laws  of  the  social 
state  of  the  barbarians  before  their  establishment  upon  the 
Roman  territory,  before  they  had  exchanged  the  wandering 
for  the  sedentary  life,  the  condition  of  nomad  warriors 
for  that  of  proprietors.  We  find,  indeed,  here  and  there, 
some  articles  concerning  the  lands  which  the  barbarians 
had  conquered,  and  concerning  their  relations  with  the 
ancient  inhabitants  of  the  country;  but  the  foundation  of 
the  greater  part  of  their  laws  is  the  ancient  mode  of  life, 
the  ancient  German  condition;  they  were  inapplicable  to 
the  new  society,  and  occupied  only  a  trifling  place  in  its 
development. 

At  the  same  time,  another  kind  of  attempt  was  made  in 
Italy  and  the  south  of  Gaul.  Roman  society  had  not  so  com- 
pletely perished  there  as  elsewhere;  a  little  more  order  and 
life  remained  in  the  cities.  There  civilization  attempted 
to  lift  again  its  head.  If,  for  example,  we  look  to  the 
kingdom  of  the  Ostrogoths  in  Italy  under  Theodoric,  we 
see  even  under  the  dominion  of  a  barbarous  king  and 
nation  the  municipal  system,  taking  breath,  so  to  speak, 
and  influencing  the  general  course  of  events.  Roman 
society  had  acted  upon  the  Goths,  and  had  to  a  certain 
degree  impressed  them  with  its  likeness.  The  same  fact  is 
visible  in  the  south  of  Gaul.  It  was  at  the  commencement 
of  the  sixth  century  that  a  Visigoth  king  of  Toulouse, 
Alaric,  caused  the  Roman  laws  to  be  collected,  and  pub- 
lished a  code  for  his  Roman  subjects  under  the  name  of 
the  Breviarium  AnianL 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  69 

In  Spain  it  was  another  power — namely,  that  of  the 
church,  which  tried  to  revive  civilization.  In  place  of 
the  ancient  German  assemblies,  the  assemblies  of  warriors, 
it  was  the  council  of  Toledo  which  prevailed  in  Spain;  and 
although  distinguished  laymen  attended  this  council,  the 
bishops  had  dominion  there.  Look  at  the  law  of  the  Visi- 
goths, you  will  see  that  it  is  not  a  barbarous  law;  it  was 
evidently  compiled  by  the  philosophers  of  the  time,  the 
clergy.  It  abounds  in  general  ideas,  in  theories,  theories 
wholly  foreign  to  barbarous  manners.  Thus,  you  know 
that  the  legislation  of  the  barbarians  was  a  personal  legis- 
lation— that  is  to  say,  that  the  same  law  applied  only  to 
men  of  the  same  race.  The  Roman  law  governed  the 
Eomans,  the  Frank  law  governed  the  Franks;  each  people 
had  its  law,  although  they  were  united  under  the  same 
government  and  inhabited  the  same  territory.  This  is 
what  is  called  the  system  of  personal  legislation,  in  opposi- 
tion to  that  of  real  legislation  fixed  upon  the  territory. 
Weir,  the  legislation  of  the  Visigoths  was  not  personal, 
out  fixed  upon  the  territory.  All  the  inhabitants  of 
Spain,  Visigotns  and  Romans,  were  subject  to  the  same 
law.  Continue  your  investigation,  and  you  will  find  yet 
more  evident  traces  of  philosophy.  Among  the  barbarians, 
men  had,  according  to  their  relative  situations,  a  deter- 
minate value;  the  barbarian,  the  Roman,  the  freeman,  the 
vassal,  etc.,  were  not  held  at  the  same  price,  there  was  a 
tariff  of  their  lives.  The  principle  of  the  equal  value  of 
men  in  the  eye  of  the  law  was  established  in  the  law  of  the 
Visigoths.  Look  to  the  system  of  procedure,  and  you  find 
in  place  of  the  oath  of  compurgatores,  or  the  judicial  com- 
bat, the  proof  by  witnesses,  and  a  rational  investigation  of 
the  matter  in  question,  such  as  might  be  prosecuted  in  a 
civilized  society.  In  short,  the  whole  Visigoth  law  bears  a 
wise,  systematic  and  social  character.  We  may  perceive 
herein  the  work  of  the  same  clergy  who  prevailed  in  the 


70  HI8T0RT  OF 

councils  of  Toledo,  and  so  powerfully  influenced  the  govern, 
ment  of  the  country. 

In  Spain,  then,  up  to  the  great  invasion  of  the  Arabs,  it 
was  the  theocratic  principle  which  attempted  the  revival  of 
civilization. 

In  France  the  same  endeavor  was  the  work  of  a  different 
power;  it  came  from  the  great  men,  above  all  from  Charle- 
magne. Examine  his  reign  under  its  various  aspects;  you 
will  see  that  his  predominating  idea  was  the  design  of 
civilizing  his  people.  First,  let  us  consider  his  wars.  He 
was  constantly  in  the  field,  from  the  south  to  the  north- 
east, from  the  Ebro  to  the  Elbe  or  the  Weser.  Can  you 
believe  that  these  were  mere  willful  expeditions,  arising 
simply  from  the  desire  of  conquest?  By  no  means.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  all  that  he  did  is  to  be  fully  explained, 
or  that  there  existed  much  d^'plomacy  or  strategetic  skill 
in  his  plans;  but  he  obeyed  a  great  necessity — a  strong 
desire  of  suppressing  barbarism.  He  was  engaged  during 
the  whole  of  his  reign  in  arresting  the  double  invasion — 
the  Mussulman  invasion  on  the  south  and  the  German  and 
Sclavonic  invasion  on  the  north.  This  is  the  military 
character  of  the  reign  of  Charlemagne;  his  expedition 
against  the  Saxons  had  no  other  origin  and  no  other 
purpose. 

If  you  turn  from  his  wars  to  his  internal  government 
you  will  there  meet  with  a  fact  of  the  same  nature — the 
attempt  to  introduce  order  and  unity  into  the  administra- 
tion of  all  the  countries  which  he  possessed.  I  do  not  wish 
to  employ  the  word  kingdom  nor  the  word  state;  for  these 
expressions  convey  too  regular  a  notion,  and  suggest  ideas 
which  are  little  in  harmony  with  the  society  over  which 
Charlemagne  presided.  But  this  is  certain,  that  being 
master  of  an  immense  territory,  he  felt  indignant  at  seeing 
all  things  incoherent,  anarchical  and  rude,  and  desired  to 
alter  their  hideous  condition.     First  of  all  he  wrought  by 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  71 

means  of  his  missi  dominiciy  whom  he  despatched  into  the 
various  parts  of  his  territory,  in  order  that  they  might 
observe  circumstances  and  reform  them,  or  give  an  account 
of  them  to  him.  He  afterward  worked  by  means  of  gen- 
eral assemblies,  which  he  held  with  much  more  regularity 
than  his  predecessors  had  done.  At  these  assemblies  he 
caused  all  the  most  considerable  persons  of  the  territory  to 
be  present.  They  were  not  free  assemljies,  nor  did  they  at 
all  resemble  the  kind  of  deliberations  with  which  we  are  ac- 
quainted; they  were  merely  a  means  taken  by  Charlemagne 
of  being  well  informed  of  facts,  and  of  introducing  some 
order  and  unity  among  his  disorderly  populations. 

Under  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  the  reign  of 
Charlemagne,  you  will  always  find  in  it  the  same  character, 
namely,  warfare  against  the  barbarous  state,  the  spirit  of 
civilization;  this  is  what  appears  in  his  eagerness  to  estab- 
lish schools,  in  his  taste  for  learned  men,  in  the  favor  with 
which  he  regarded  ecclesiastical  influence,  and  in  all  that 
he  thought  proper  to  do,  whether  as  regarded  the  entire 
society  or  individual  man. 

An  attempt  of  the  same  kind  was  made  somewhat  later 
in  England  by  King  Alfred. 

Thus  the  different  causes  to  which  I  have  directed  atten- 
tion, as  tending  to  put  an  end  to  barbarism,  were  in  action 
in  some  part  or  other  of  Europe  from  the  fifth  to  the  ninth 
centurv. 

None  succeeded.  Charlemagne  was  unable  to  found  his 
great  empire,  and  the  system  of  government  which  he 
desired  to  establish  therein.  In  Spain  the  church  suc- 
ceeded no  better  in  establishing  the  theocratic  principle. 
In  Italy  and  in  the  south  of  Gaul,  although  Koman  civil- 
ization often  attempted  to  rise  again,  it  was  not  till  after 
ward,  toward  the  end  of  the  tenth  century,  that  it  really 
reacquired  any  vigor.  Up  to  that  time  all  efforts  to  ter- 
minate barbarism  proved  abortive;  they  supposed  that  men 


72  HISTORY  OF 

were  more  advanced  than  they  truly  were;  they  all  desired, 
under  various  forms,  a  society  more  extended  or  more 
regular  than  was  compatible  with  the  distribution  of  power 
and  the  condition  of  men's  minds.  Nevertheless,  they  had 
not  been  wholly  useless.  At  the  beginning  of  the  tenth 
<jentury,  neither  the  great  empire  of  Charlemagne  nor  the 
glorious  councils  of  Toledo  were  any  longer  spoken  of;  but 
barbarism  had  nol^  the  less  arrived  at  its  extreme  term — 
two  great  results  had  been  obtained. 

I.  The  movement  of  the  invasions  on  the  north  and 
south  had  been  arrested:  after  the  dismemberment  of  the 
empire  of  Charlemagne  the  states  established  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Khine  opposed  a  powerful  barrier  to  the  tribes 
who  continued  to  urge  their  way  westward.  The  Normans 
prove  this  incontestably;  up  to  this  period,  if  we  except 
the  tribes  which  cast  themselves  upon  England,  the  move- 
ment of  maritime  invasions  had  not  been  very  considerable. 
It  was  during  the  ninth  century  that  it  became  constant 
and  general.  And  this  was  because  invasions  by  land  were 
become  very  difficult,  society  having,  on  this  side,  acquired 
more  fixed  and  certain  frontiers.  That  portion  of  the 
wandering  population  which  could  not  be  driven  back  was 
constrained  to  turn  aside  and  carry  on  its  roving  life  upon 
the  sea.  Whatever  evils  were  done  in  the  west  by  Norman 
expeditions,  they  were  far  less  fatal  than  invasions  by  land; 
they  disturbed  dawning  society  far  less  generally. 

In  the  south  the  same  fact  declared  itself.  The  Arabs 
were  quartered  in  Spain;  warfare  continued  between  them 
and  the  Christians,  but  it  no  longer  entailed  the  displace- 
ment of  the  population.  Saracenic  bands  still,  from  time 
to  time,  infested  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean;  but  the 
grand  progress  of  Islamism  had  evidently  ceased. 

II.  At  this  period  we  see  the  wandering  life  ceasing,  in  it« 
turn,  throughout  the  interior  of  Europe;  populations  estab- 
lished themselves;  property  became  fixed;  and  the  relations 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  ?S 

* 

of  men  no  longer  varied  from  day  to  day,  at  the  will  of 
violence  or  chance.  The  internal  and  moral  condition  of 
man  himself  began  to  change;  his  ideas  and  sentiments, 
like  his  life,  acquired  fixedness;  he  attached  himself  to  the 
places  which  he  inhabited,  to  the  relations  which  he  had 
contracted  there,  to  those  domains  which  he  began  to 
promise  himself  that  he  would  bequeath  to  his  children,  to 
that  dwelling  which  one  day  he  will  call  his  castle,  to  that 
miserable  collection  of  colonists  and  slaves  which  will  one 
day  become  a  village.  Everywhere  little  societies,  little 
states,  cut,  so  to  speak,  to  the  measure  of  the  ideas  and  the 
wisdom  of  man,  formed  themselves.  Between  these  soci- 
eties was  gradually  introduced  the  bond,  of  which  the  cus- 
toms of  barbarism  contained  the  germ,  the  bond  of  a  con- 
federation which  did  not  annihilate  individual  independence. 
On  the  one  hand,  every  considerable  person  established 
himself  in  his  domains,  alone  with  his  family  and 
servitors ;  on  the  other  hand,  a  certain  hierarchy  ot 
services  and  rights  became  established  between  these 
warlike  proprietors  scattered  over  the  land.  What 
was  this?  The  feudal  system  rising  definitively  from 
the  bosom  of  barbarism.  Of  the  various  elements  of  our 
civilization,  it  was  natural  that  the  Germanic  element 
should  first  prevail;  it  had  strength  on  its  side,  it  had  con- 
quered Europe;  from  it  Europe  was  to  receive  its  earliest 
social  form  and  organization.  This  is  what  happened. 
Feudalism,  its  character,  and  the  part  played  by  it  in  the 
history  of  European  civilization,  will  be  the  subject-matter 
of  my  next  lecture;  and  in  the  bosom  of  that  victorious 
feudal  system  we  shall  meet  at  every  step,  with  the  other 
elements  of  our  civilization — royalty,  the  church,  munici- 
pal corporations;  and  we  shall  foresee  without  difficulty 
that  they  are  not  destined  to  sink  beneath  this  feudal  form, 
to  which  they  become  assimilated,  while  struggling  against 
it,  and  while  waiting  the  hour  when  victory  shall  visit  them 
in  their  turn. 


74  msrOBT  OF 


FOURTH  LECTURE.   , 

Object  of  the  lecture — Necessary  alliance  between  facts  and  doc- 
trines— Preponderance  of  tbe  country  over  the  towns — Organiza- 
tion of  a  small  feudal  society — Influence  of  feudalism  upon  the 
character  of  the  possessor  of  the  fief,  and  upon  the  spirit  of 
family — Hatred  of  the  people  toward  the  feudal  system — The 
priest  could  do  little  ^r  the  serfs — Impossibility  of  regularly 
organizing  feudalism:  1.  No  powerful  authority;  2.  No  public 
power;  3.  Difficulty  of  the  federative  system — The  idea  of  the 
right  of  resistance  inherent  in  feudalism — Influence  of  feudalism 
favorable  to  the  development  of  the  individual,  unfavorable  to 
social  order. 

We  have  studied  the  condition  of  Europe  after  the  fall 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  in  the  first  period  of  modern  history, 
the  barbarous.  We  have  seen  that,  at  the  end  of  this 
epoch,  and  at  the  commencement  of  the  tenth  century,  the 
first  principle,  the  first  system  that  developed  itself  and 
took  possession  of  European  society,  was  the  feudal 
system;  we  have  seen  that  feudalism  was  the  first-born  of 
barbarism.  It  is  then  the  feudal  system  which  must  now 
be  the  object  of  our  study. 

I  scarcely  think  it  necessary  to  remind  you  that  it  is  not 
the  history  of  events,  properly  speaking,  which  we  are 
considering.  It  is  not  my  business  to  recount  to  you  the 
destinies  of  feudalism.  That  which  occupies  us  in  the 
history  of  civilization;  this  is  the  general  and  hidden  fact 
which  we  seek  under  all  the  external  facts  which  envelop  it. 

Thus  events,  social  crises,  the  various  states  through 
which  society  has  passed,  interest  us  only  in  their  relations 
to  the  development  of  civilization;  we  inquire  of  them  solely 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  75 

in  what  respects  they  have  opposed  or  assisted  it,  what  they 
have  given  to  it,  and  what  they  have  refused  it.  It  is  only 
under  this  point  of  view  that  we  are  to  consider  the  feudal 
system. 

In  the  commencement  of  these  lectures  we  defined  the 
aature  of  civilization;  we  attempted  to  investigate  its  ele- 
ments; we  saw  that  it  consisted,  on  the  one  hand,  in 
the  development  of  man  himself,  of  the  individual,  of 
humanity;  on  the  other  hand,  in  that  of  his  external  .con- 
dition, in  the  development  of  society.  Whenever  we 
find  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  an  event,  of  a  system,  or 
of  a  general  condition  of  the  world,  we  have  this  double 
question  to  ask  of  it,  what  has  it  done  for  or  against  the 
development  of  man,  for  or  against  the  development  of 
society  ? 

You  understand  beforehand  that,  during  our  investiga- 
tions, it  is  impossible  that  we  should  not  meet  upon  our 
way  most  important  questions  of  moral  philosophy.  When 
we  desire  to  know  in  what  an  event  or  a  system  has  contrib- 
uted to  the  development  of  man  and  of  society,  it  is  abso- 
lutely needful  that  we  should  be  acquainted  with  the  nature 
of  the  true  development  of  society  and  of  man;  that  we 
should  know  what  developments  are  false  and  illegitimate, 
perverting  instead  of  ameliorating,  causing  a  retrogressive 
instead  of  a  progressive  movement. 

We  shall  not  seek  to  escape  from  this  necessity.  Not 
only  should  we  thereby  mutilate  and  lower  our  ideas  and  the 
facts,  but  the  actual  state  of  the  world  imposes  upon  us  the 
necessity  of  freely  accepting  this  inevitable  alliance  of  philos- 
ophy and  history.  This  is  precisely  one  of  the  cliaracteris- 
tics,  perhaps  the  essential  characteristic  of  our  epoch.  W^e 
are  called  upon  to  consider,  to  cause  to  progress  together, 
science  and  reality,  theory  and  practice,  right  and  fact.  Up 
to  our  times,  these  two  powers  have  existed  separately;  th^ 
world  has  been  accustomed  to  behold  science  and  practice  f ol*- 


76  *  HISTORY  OJf 

lowing  different  roads,  without  recognizing  each  other,  or  at 
least  without  meeting.  And  when  doctrines  and  general 
ideas  have  desired  to  amalgamate  with  events  and  influence 
the  world  they  have  only  succeeded  under  the  form  and  by 
means  of  the  arm  of  fanaticism.  The  empire  of  human 
societies,  and  the  direction  of  thei«*  affairs,  have  hitherto 
been  shared  between  tu'o  kinds  of  influences:  upon  one  hand, 
the  believers,  the  men  of  general  ideas  and  principles,  the 
fanatics;  on  the  oth^r,  men  strangers  to  all  rational  prin- 
ciples, who  govern  themselves  merely  according  to  circum- 
stances, practicians,  free-thinkers,  tis  the  seventeentli  cen- 
tury called  them.  This  condition  of  things  is  now  ceasing; 
neither  fanatics  nor  free-thinkers  will  any  longer  have 
dominion.  In  order  now  to  govern  and  prevail  with  men, 
it  is  necessary  to  be  acquainted  with  general  ideas  and  cir- 
cumstances; it  is  necessary  to  know  how  to  value  princi- 
ples and  facts,  to  respect  virtue  and  necessity,  to  preserve 
one^s  self  from  the  pride  of  fanatics,  and  the  not  less  blind 
scorn  of  free-thinkers.  To  this  point  have  we  been  con- 
ducted by  the  development  of  the  human  mind  and  the 
social  state:  upon  one  hand,  the  human  mind,  exalted  and 
freed,  better  comprehends  the  connection  of  things,  knows 
how  to  look  around  on  all  sides,  and  makes  use  of  all  things 
in  its  combinations;  on  the  other  hand,  society  has  per- 
fected itself  to  that  degree  that  it  can  be  compared  with 
the  truth;  that  facts  can  be  brought  into  juxtaposition 
with  principles,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  their  still  great  imper- 
fections, not  inspire  by  the  comparison  invincible  discour- 
agement  or  distaste.  I  shall  thus  obey  the  natural  ten- 
dency, convenience,  and  the  necessity  of  our  times,  in 
constantly  passing  from  the  examination  of  circumstances 
to  that  of  ideas,  from  an  exposition  of  facts  to  a  question 
of  doctrines.  Perhaps,  even,  there  is  in  the  actual  dispo- 
sition of  men's  minds  another  reason  in  favor  of  this 
method.     For  some   time  pa-st  a  confirmed  taste,  I  might 


OIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  77 

say  a  sort  of  predilection,  has  manifested  itself  among  us, 
for  facts,  for  practical  views,  for  the  positive  aspect  of 
human  affairs.  We  have  been  to  such  an  extent  a  prey  to 
the  despotism  of  general  ideas,  of  theories;  they  have,  in 
some  respects,  cost  us  so  dear  that  they  are  become  the 
objects  of  a  certain  degree  of  distrust.  We  like  better  to 
carry  ourselves  back  to  facts,  to  special  circumstances,  to 
applications.  This  is  not  to  be  regretted;  it  is  a  new  prog- 
ress, a  great  step  in  knowledge,  and  toward  the  empire 
of  truth;  provided  always  that  we  do  not  allow  ourselves  to 
be  prejudiced  and  carried  away  by  this  disposition;  that 
we  do  not  forget  that  truth  alone  has  a  right  to  reign  in 
the  w^orld;  that  facts  have  no  value  except  as  they  tend  to 
explain,  and  to  assimilate  themselves  more  and  more  to  the 
truth;  that  all  true  greatness  is  of  thought;  and  that  all 
fruitfulness  belongs  to  it.  The  civilization  of  our  country 
has  this  peculiar  character,  that  it  has  never  wanted  intel- 
lectual greatness;  it  has  always  been  rich  in  ideas;  the 
power  of  the  human  mind  has  always  been  great  in  French 
society;  greater,  perhaps,  than  in  any  other.  We  must  not 
lose  this  high  privilege;  we  must  not  fall  into  the  some- 
what subordinate  and  material  state  which  characterizes 
other  societies.  Intelligence  and  doctrines  must  occupy  in 
the  France  of  the  present  day  at  least  the  place  which  they 
have  occupied  there  hitherto. 

We  shall,  then,  by  no  means  avoid  general  and  philo- 
sophical questions;  we  shall  not  wander  in  search  of  them, 
but  where  facts  lead  us  to  them  we  shall  meet  them  with- 
out hesitation  or  embarrassment.  An  occasion  of  doing  so 
will  more  than  once  present  itself  during  the  consideration 
of  the  feudal  system  in  its  relations  to  the  history  of  Euro- 
pean civilization. 

A  good  proof  that  in  the  tenth  century  the  feudal 
system  was  necessary,  was  the  only  possible  social  state,  is 
the  universality  of  its  establishment.     Wherever  barbarism 


78  HISTORY  OF 

ceased,  everything  took  the  feudal  form.  At  the  first 
moment,  men  saw  in  it  only  the  triumph  of  chtios;  all 
unity,  all  general  civilization  vanished;  on  all  sides  they 
beheld  society  dismembering  itself;  and,  in  its  stead,  they 
beheld  a  number  of  minor,  obscure,  isolated,  and  inco- 
herent societies  erect  themselves.  To  contemporaries,  this 
appeared  the  dissolution  of  all  things,  universal  anarchy. 
Consult  the  poets  and  the  chroniclers  of  the  time;  they  all 
believed  themselves  at  the  end  of  the  world.  It  was,  ne\- 
ertheless,  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  real  society,  the 
feudal,  so  necessary,  so  inevitable,  so  truly  the  only  possi- 
ble consequence  of  the  anterior  state,  that  all  things  entered 
into  it  and  assumed  its  form.  Elements,  the  most  foreign 
to  this  system,  the  church,  municipalities,  royalty,  were 
compelled  to  accommodate  themselves  to  it;  the  churches 
became  suzerains  and  vassals,  cities  had  lords  and  vassals, 
royalty  disguised  itself  under  the  form  of  suzerainship.  All 
things  were  given  in  fief,  not  only  lands,  but  certain  rights, 
the  right,  for  instance,  of  felling  in  forests,  and  of  fishing, 
the  churches  gave  in  fief  their  perquisites,  from  their  reve- 
nues from  baptisms,  the  churchings  of  women.  Water 
and  money  were  given  in  fief.  Just  as  all  the  general  ele- 
ments of  society  entered  into  the  feudal  frame,  so  the 
smallest  details,  and  the  most  trifling  facts  of  common  life, 
<  became  a  part  of  feudalism. 

In  beholding  the  feudal  form  thus  taking  possession  of 
all  things,  we  are  tempted  to  believe,  at  first,  that  the  essen- 
tial and  vital  principle  of  feudalism  everywhere  prevailed. 
.  But  this  is  a  mistake.  In  borrowing  the  feudal  form,  the 
elements  and  institutions  of  society  which  were  not  anal- 
ogous to  the  feudal  system,  did  not  renounce  their  own 
nature  or  peculiar  principles.  The  feudal  church  did 
not  cease  to  be  animated  and  governed,  at  bottom,  by 
the  theocratic  principle;  and  it  labored  unceasingly, 
sometimes  in  concert   with   the  royal  power,  sometimes 


CIVILIZA  TlOm  M  EUROPE.  79- 

^th  the  pope,  and  sometimes  with  the  people,  to 
destroy  this  system,  of  which,  so  to  speak,  it  wore  the^ 
livery.  It  was  the  same  with  royalty  and  with  the  corpora- 
tions; in  the  one  the  monarchical,  in  the  other  the  demo- 
cratical  principle,  continued,  at  bottom,  to  predominate. 
Notwithstanding  their  feudal  livery,  these  various  elements 
of  European  society  constantly  labored  to  deliver  them- 
selves from  a  form  which  was  foreign  to  their  true  nature, 
and  to  assume  that  which  corresponded  to  their  peculiar 
and  vital  principle. 

Having  shown  the  universality  of  the  feudal  form,  it  be- 
comes very  necessary  to  be  on  our  guard  against  conclud-> 
ing  from  this  the  universality  of  the  feudal  principle,  and- 
against  studying  feudalism  indifferently,  whenever  we  meet 
with  its  physiognomy.     In  order  to  know  and  comprehend 
this  system  thoroughly,  to  unravel  and  judge  of  its  effects 
in  reference  to  modern  civilization,  we  must  examine  it- 
where  the  form  and  principle  are  in  harmony;  we  must 
study  it  in  the  hierarchy  of  lay  possessors  of  fiefs,  in  the- 
association  of  the  conquerors  of  the  European  territory. 
There  truly  resided  feudal  society;  thereupon  we  are  now^ 
to  enter. 

I  spoke  just  now  of  the  importance  of  moral  questions, 
and  of  the  necessity  of  not  avoiding  them.  But  there  is  a. 
totally  opposite  kind  of  considerations,  which  has  generally 
been  too  much  neglected;  I  mean  the  material  condition  of 
society,  the  material  changes  introduced  into  mankind^s 
method  of  existing,  by  a  new  fact,  by  a  revolution,  by  a 
new  social  state.  We  have  not  always  sufficiently  consid- 
ered these  things;  we  have  not  always  sufficiently  inquired 
into  the  modifications  introduced  by  these  great  crises  of 
the  world,  into  the  material  existence  of  men,  into  the  ma- 
terial aspect  of  their  relations.  These  modifications  have* 
more  influence  upon  the  entire  society  than  is  supposed. 
Who  does  not  know  how  much  the  influence  of  climates- 


•80  EISTORT  OF 

Jias  been  studied,  and  how  much  impartance  was  attached 
to  it  by  Montesquieu.  If  we  regard  the  immediate  influ- 
ence of  climate  upon  men,  perhaps  it  is  not  so  extensive  as 
has  been  supposed;  it  is,  at  all  events,  very  vague  and  diffi- 
cult to  be  appreciated.  But  the  indirect  influence  of  cli- 
mate, that  which,  for  example,  results  from  the  fact  that, 
in  a  warm  country  men  live  in  the  open  air,  while  in  a  cold 
country  they  shut  themselves  up  in  their  houses;  that  in 
^ne  case  they  nourish  themselves  in  one  manner,  in  the 
other  in  another.  These  are  facts  of  great  importance, 
facts  which,  by  the  simple  difference  of  material  life,  act 
powerfully  upon  civilization.  All  great  revolutions  lead  to 
modifications  of  this  sort  in  the  social  state,  and  these  are 
Yery  necessary  to  be  considered. 

The  establishment  of  the  feudal  system  produced  one  of 
these  modifications,  of  unmistakable  importance;  it  altered 
the  distribution  of  the  population  over  the  face  of  the  land. 
Hitherto  the  masters  of  the  soil,  the  sovereign  population, 
had  lived  united  in  more  or  less  numerous  masses  of  men, 
whether  sedentarily  in  cities,  or  wandering  in  bands 
through  the  country.  In  consequence  of  the  feudal  sys- 
tem, these  same  men  lived  isolated,  each  in  his  own  habita- 
tion and  at  great  distances  from  one  another.  You  will 
immediately  perceive  how  much  influence  this  change  was 
calculated  to  exercise  upon  the  character  and  course  of  civ- 
ilization. The  social  predonderance,  the  government  of 
society,  passed  suddenly  from  the  towns  to  the  country; 
Drivate  property  became  of  more  importance  than  public 
property,  private  life  than  public  life.  Such  was  the  first 
and  purely  material  effect  of  the  triumph  of  feudal  society. 
TThe  further  we  examine  into  it,  the  more  will  the  conse- 
quence of  thi^  single  fact  be  unfolded  to  our  eyes. 

Let  us  investigate  this  society  in  itself  and  see  what  part 
it  has  played  in  the  history  of  civilization.  First  of  all  let 
as    take  feudalism    in    its    most  simple,   primitive,  and 


CI  VILIZA  TlOJSr  IN  EUROPE,  8 J 

fundamental  element;  let  us  consider  a  single  possessor 
of  a  fief  in  his  domain,  and  let  us  see  what  will  become  of 
all  those  who  form  the  little  society  around  him. 

He  establishes  himself   upon   an  isolated  and  elevated 
spot,  which  he  takes  care  to  render  safe  and  strong;  there 
he  constructs  what  he  will  call  his  castle.     With  whom 
does  he  establish  himself?     With  his  wife  and  children;; 
perhaps  some  freemen,  who  have  not  become  proprietors, 
attach  themselves  to  his  person,  and  continue  to  live  with 
him,  at  his  table.    These  are  the  inhabitants  of  the  interior 
of  the  castle.     Around  and  at  its  foot  a  little  population  of 
colonists  and  serfs  gather  together,  who  cultivate  the  do- 
mains of  the  possessor  of  the  fief.     In  the  center  of  this 
lower  population  religion  plants  a  church;  it  brings  hither 
a  priest.     In  the  early  period  of  the  feudal  system   this 
priest  was  commonly  at  the  same  time  the  chaplain  of  the- 
castle  and  pastor  of  the  village;  by  and  by  these  two  char-^ 
acters  separated;  the  village  had  its  own  pastor,  who  lived 
there  beside  his  church.     This,  then,  was  the  elementary^ 
feudal  society,  the  feudal  molecule,  so  to  speak.     It  is  this 
element  that  we  have  first  of  all  to  examine.     We  will  de- 
mand of  it  the  double  question  which  should  be  asked  of 
all  our  facts:  What  has  resulted  from  it  in  favor  of  the- 
development — (1)  of  man  himself,  (2)  of  society? 

We  are  perfectly  justified  in  addressing  this  double  ques- 
tion to  the  little  society  which  I  have  just  described,  and 
in  placing  faith  in  its  replies;  for  it  was  the  type  and  faith- 
ful image  of  the  entire  feudal  society.  The  lord,  the  people 
on  his  domains,  and  the  priest;  such  is  feudalism  upon  the 
great  as  well  as  the  small  scale,  when  we  have  taker  from 
it  royalty  and  the  towns,  which  are  distinct  and  foreign, 
elements. 

The  first  fact  that  strikes  us  in  contemplating  this  littla 
society,  is  the  prodigious  importance  which  the  possessor 
of  the  fief  must  have  had,  both  in  his  own  eyes,  and  in  the- 


82  HISTORY  OF 

eyes  of  those  who  surround  him.  The  sentiment  of  per- 
sonality, of  individual  liberty,  predominated  in  the  bar- 
baric life.  But  here  it  was  wholly  different;  it  was  no 
longer  only  the  liberty  of  the  man,  of  the  warrior;  it  was 
the  importance  of  the  proprietor,  of  the  head  of  the  family, 
of  the  master,  that  came  to  be  considered.  From  this 
situation  an  impression  of  immense  superiority  must  have 
resulted;  a  superiority  quite  peculiar,  and  very  different 
from  everything  that  we  meet  with  in  the  career  of  other 
civilizations.  I  will  give  the  proof  of  this.  I  take  in  the 
•ancient  world  some  great  aristocratical  position,  a  Roman 
patrician,  for  instance:  like  the  feudal  lord,  the  Eoman 
patrician  was  head  of  a  family,  master,  superior.  He  was, 
moreover,  the  religious  magistrate,  the  pontiff  in  the  in- 
terior of  his  family.  Now,  his  importance  as  a  religious 
magistrate  came  to  him  from  without;  it  was  not  a  purely 
personal  and  individual  importance;  he  received  it  from  on 
high;  he  was  the  delegate  of  the  Divinity;  the  interpreter 
-of  the  religious  creed.  The  Roman  patrician  was,  besides, 
the  member  of  a  corporation  which  lived  united  on  the 
eame  spot,  a  member  of  the  senate;  this  again  was  an  im- 
portance which  came  to  him  from  without,  from  his  cor- 
poration, a  received,  a  borrowed  importance.  The  great- 
ness of  the  ancient  aristocrats,  associated  as  it  was  with  a 
Teligious  and  political  character,  belonged  to  the  situation, 
to  the  corporation  in  general,  rather  than  to  the  individual. 
That  of  the  possessor  of  the  fief  was  purely  individual;  it 
was  not  derived  from  any  one;  all  his  rights,  all  his  power, 
came  to  him  from  himself.  He  was  not  a  religious  magis- 
trate; he  took  no  part  in  a  senate;  it  was  in  his  person 
that  all  his  importance  resided;  all  that  he  was,  he  was  of 
himself,  and  in  his  own  name.  What  a  mighty  influence 
must  such  a  situation  have  exerted  on  its  occupant!  What 
individual  haughtiness,  what  prodigious  pride — let  us  say 
^he  word' — what  insolence,  must  have  arisen  in  his  souIJ 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  gS 

A^bove  himself  there  was  no  superior  of  whom  he  was  the 
representative  or  interpreter;  there  was  no  equal  near  him; 
no  powerful  and  general  law  which  weighed  upon  him;  no 
external  rule  which  influenced  his  will;  he  knew  no  curb 
but  the  limits  of  his  strength  and  the  presence  of  danger. 
Such  was  the  necessary  moral  result  of  this  situation  upon 
the  character  of  man. 

I  now  proceed  to  a  second  consequence,  mighty  also,  and 
too  little  noticed,  namely,  the  particular  turn  taken  by  tha 
feudal  family  spirit. 

Let  us  cast  a  glance  over  the  various  family  systems. 
Take  first  of  all  the  patriarchal  system  of  which  the  Bible- 
and  oriental  records  offer  the  model.  The  family  was  very 
numerous;  it  was  a  tribe.  The  chief,  the  patriarch,  lived 
therein  in  common  with  his  children,  his  near  relations,, 
the  various  generations  which  united  themselves  around 
him,  all  his  kindred,  all  his  servants;  and  not  only  did  he 
live  with  them  all,  but  he  had  the  same  interests,  the  same 
occupations,  and  he  led  the  same  life.  Was  not  this  the- 
condition  of  Abraham,  of  the  patriarchs,  and  of  the  chiefs 
of  the  Arab  tribes,  who  still  reproduce  the  image  of  th©^ 
patriarchal  life? 

Another  family  system  presents  itself,  namely,  the  clan^ 
a  petty  society,  whose  type  we  must  seek  for  in  Scotland 
or  Ireland.  Through  this  system,  very  probably,  a  large 
portion  of  the  European  family  has  passed.  This  in  no 
longer  the  patriarchal  family.  There  is  here  a  great  dif- 
ference between  the  situation  of  the  chief  and  that  of  the 
rest  of  the  population.  They  did  not  lead  the  same  life: 
the  greater  portion  tilled  and  served;  the  chief  was  idle  and 
warlike.  But  they  had  a  common  origin;  they  all  bore  the 
same  name;  and  their  relations  of  kindred,  ancient  tra- 
ditions, the  same  recollections,  the  same  affections,  estab- 
lished a  moral  tie,  a  sort  of  equality  between  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  clao. 


S4  HISTORY  OF 

These  are  the  two  principal  types  of  the  family  society 
presented  by  history.  But  have  we  here  the  feudal  family? 
Obviously  not.  It  seems,  at  first,  that  the  feudal  family 
bears  some  relation  to  the  clan;  but  the  difference  is  much 
greater  than  the  resemblance.  The  population  which  sur- 
rounded the  possessor  of  the  fief  were  totally  unconnected 
with  him;  they  did  not  bear  his  name;  between  them  and 
him  there  was  no  kindred,  no  bond,  moral  or  historical. 
Neither  did  it  resemble  the  patriarchal  family.  The  pos- 
sessor of  the  fief  led  not  the  same  life,  nor  did  he  engage 
in  the  same  occupations  with  those  who  surrounded  him; 
he  was  an  idler  and  a  warrior,  while  the  others  were 
laborers.  The  feudal  family  was  not  numerous;  it  was  not 
a  tribe;  it  reduced  itself  to  the  family,  properly  so  called, 
namely,  to  the  wife  and  children;  it  lived  separated  from 
the  rest  of  the  population,  shut  up  in  the  castle.  The 
<}olonists  and  serfs  made  no  part  of  it;  the  origin  of  the 
members  of  this  society  was  different,  the  inequality  of 
their  situation  immense.  Five  or  six  individuals,  in  a 
situation  at  once  superior  to  and  estranged  from  the  rest  of 
the  society,  that  was  the  feudal  family.  It  was  of  course 
invested  with  a  peculiar  character.  It  was  narrow,  con- 
'Centrated,  and  constantly  called  upon  to  defend  itself 
against,  to  distrust,  and,  at  least,  to  isolate  itself  from 
even  its  retainers.  The  interior  life,  domestic  manners, 
^  were  sure  to  become  predominant  in  such  a  system.  I  am 
aware  that  the  brutality  of  the  passions  of  a  chief,  his  habit 
of  spending  his  time  in  warfare  or  the  chase,  were  a  great 
obstacle  to  the  development  of  domestic  manners.  But 
4:hi8  would  be  conquered;  the  chief  necessarily  returned 
home  habitually;  he  always  found  there  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, and  these  well  nigh  only;  these  would  alone  consti- 
tute his  permanent  society — they  would  alone  share  his 
interests,  his  destiny.  Domestic  life  necessarily,  therefore, 
acquired  great  sway.     Proofs  of  this  abound.     Was  it  not 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  85 

within  the  bosom  of  the  feudal  family  that  the  importance 
of  women  developed  itself?  In  all  the  ancient  societies,  I 
do  not  speak  of  those  where  the  family  spirit  did  not  exist, 
but  of  those  wherein  it  was  very  powerful  in  the  patri- 
archal life,  for  instance,  women  did  not  hold  at  all  so  con- 
siderable a  place  as  they  acquired  in  Europe  under  the 
feudal  system.  It  was  to  the  development  and  necessary 
preponderance  of  domestic  manners  in  feudalism,  that  they 
chiefly  owed  this  change,  this  progress  in  their  condition. 
Some  have  desired  to  trace  the  cause  to  the  peculiar  man- 
ners of  the  ancient  Germans;  to  a  national  respect  which, 
it  is  said,  they  bore  toward  women  amid  their  forests. 
Upon  a  sentence  of  Tacitus,  German  patriotism  has  built  I 
know  not  what  superiority,  what  primitive  and  uneradica- 
ble  purity  of  German  manners,  as  regards  the  relations  of 
the  two  sexes.  Mere  fancies!  Phrases  similar  to  that  of 
Tacitus,  concerning  sentiments  and  usages  analogous  to 
those  of  the  ancient  Germans,  are  to  be  found  in  the  reci- 
tals of  a  crowd  of  observers  of  savage  or  barbarous  people. 
There  is  nothing  primitive  therein,  nothing  peculiar  to  any 
particular  race.  It  was  in  the  effects  of  a  strongly  marked 
social  position,  in  the  progress  and  preponderance  of 
domestic  manners,  that  the  importance  of  women  in 
Europe  originated;  and  the  preponderance  of  domestic 
manners  became,  very  early,  an  essential  characteristic  of 
the  feudal  system. 

A  second  fact,  another  proof  of  the  empire  of  domestic 
life,  equally  characterizes  the  feudal  family:  1  mean  thb 
hereditary  spirit,  the  spirit  of  perpetuation,  which  evidently 
predominated  therein.  The  hereditary  spirit  is  inherent  in 
the  family  spirit;  but  nowhere  has  it  so  strongly  developed 
itself  as  under  the  feudal  system.  This  resulted  from  the 
nature  of  the  property  with  which  the  family  was  incor- 
porated. The  fief  was  unlike  other  properties:  it  con- 
stantly demanded  a  possessor  to  defend  it,  serve  it,  acc^uit 


86  HISTORY  OF 

himself  of  the  obligations  inherent  in  the  domain,  and 
thus  maintain  it  in  its  rank  amid  the  general  association  of 
the  masters  of  the  soil.  Thence  resulted  a  sort  of  identifi- 
cation between  the  actual  possessor  of  the  fief  and  the  fief 
itself,  and  all  the  series  of  its  future  possessors. 

This  circumstance  greatly  contributed  to  fortify  and 
make  closer  the  family  ties  already  so  powerful  by  tht 
very  nature  of  the  feudal  family. 

I  now  issue  from  the  seignorial  dwelling,  and  descend 
amid  the  petty  population  that  surrounds  it.  Here  all 
things  wear  a  different  aspect.  The  nature  of  man  is  so 
good  and  fruitful  that  when  a  social  situation  endures  for 
any  length  of  time,  a  certain  moral  tie,  sentiments  of  pro- 
tection, benevolence  and  affection,  inevitably  establish 
themselves  among  those  who  are  thus  approximated  to 
one  another,  whatever  may  be  the  conditions  of  approxi- 
mation. It  happened  thus  with  feudalism.  No  doubt, 
after  a  certain  time,  some  moral  relations,  some  habits 
of  affection,  became  contracted  between  the  colonists 
and  the  possessor  of  the  fief.  But  this  happened  in 
spite  of  their  relative  position,  and  not  by  reason  of  its 
influence.  Considered  in  itself,  the  position  was  radically 
wrong.  There  was  nothing  morally  in  common  between 
the  possessor  of  the  fief  and  the  colonists;  they  constituted 
part  of  his  domain;  they  were  his  property;  and  under 
this  name,  property,  were  included  all  the  rights  which,  in 
the  present  day,  are  called  rights  of  public  sovereignity, 
as  well  as  the  rights  of  private  property,  the  right  of  imposing 
laws,  of  taxing  and  punishing,  as  well  as  that  of  disposing 
of  and  selling.  As  far  as  it  is  possible  that  such  should  be 
the  case  where  men  are  in  presence  of  men,  between  the 
lord  and  the  cultivators  of  his  lands  there  existed  no  rights, 
no  guarantees,  no  society. 

Hence,  I  conceive,  the  truly  prodigious  and  invincible 
hatred  with  which  the  people  at  all  times  have  regarded 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  87 

the  feudal  system,  its  recollections,  its  very  name.  It  is  not 
a  case  without  example  for  men  to  have  submitted  to  op- 
pressive despotism,  and  to  have  become  accustomed  to 
them;  nay,  to  have  willingly  accepted  them.  Theocratic 
and  monarchical  depotisms  have  more  than  once  ob- 
tained the  consent,  almost  the  affections,  of  the  population 
subjected  to  them.  But  feudal  despotism  has  always  been 
repulsive  and  odious;  it  has  oppressed  the  destinies,  but 
never  reigned  over  the  souls  of  men.  The  reason  is,  that 
in  theocracy  and  monarchy,  power  is  exercised  in  virtue  of 
certain  words  which  are  common  to  the  master  and  to  the 
subject;  it  is  the  representative,  the  minister  of  another 
power  superior  to  all  human  power;  it  speaks  and  acts  in 
the  name  of  the  Divinity  or  of  a  general  idea,  and  not  in 
the  name  of  man  himself,  of  man  alone.  Feudal  despotism 
was  altogether  different;  it  was  the  power  of  the  individual 
over  the  individual;  the  dominion  of  the  personal  and 
capricious  will  of  a  man.  This  is,  perhaps,  the  only 
tyranny  of  which,  to  his  eternal  honor,  man  will  never 
willingly  accept.  Whenever,  in  his  master,  he  beholds  a 
mere  man,  from  the  moment  that  the  will  which  oppresses 
him  appears  a  merely  human  and  individual  will,  like  his 
own,  he  becomes  indignant,  and  supports  the  yoke  wrath- 
fully.  Such  was  the  true  and  distinguishing  character  of 
feudal  power;  and  such  was  also  the  origin  of  the  antipathy 
which  it  has  ever  inspired. 

The  religious  element  which  was  associated  with  it  was 
little  calculated  to  ease  the  burden.  I  do  not  conceive 
that  the  influence  of  the  priest,  in  the  little  society  which 
I  have  just  described,  was  very  great,  nor  that  he  succeeded 
much  in  legitimating  the  relations  of  the  inferior  popula- 
tion with  the  lord.  The  church  has  exerted  a  very  great 
influence  upon  European  civilization,  but  this  it  has  done 
by  proceedings  of  a  general  character,  by  changing,  for  in- 
stance, the  general  dispositions  of  men.     When  we  enter 


88  HISTORY  OF 

closely  into  the  petty  feudal  society,  properly  so  called,  we 
find  that  the  influence  of  the  priest,  between  the  colonists 
and  the  lord,  scarcely  amounted  to  any  thing.  Most  fre- 
quently he  was  himself  rude  and  subordinate  as  a  serf,  and 
very  little  in  condition  or  disposition  to  combat  the  arro- 
gance of  the  lord.  No  doubt,  called,  as  he  was,  to  sustain  and 
develop  somewhat  of  moral  life  in  the  inferior  population, 
he  was  dear  and  useful  to  it  on  this  account;  he  spread 
through  it  somewhat  of  consolation  and  of  life;  but, 
I  conceive,  he  could  and  did  very  little  to  alleviate  its 
destiny. 

I  have  examined  the  elementary  feudal  society;  I  have 
placed  before  you  the  principal  consequences  which  neces- 
sarily flowed  from  it,  whether  to  the  possessor  of  the  fief 
himself,  or  his  family,  or  the  population  congregated 
around  him.  Let  us  now  go  forth  from  this  narrow  in- 
closure.  The  population  of  the  fief  was  not  alone  upon 
the  land;  there  were  other  societies,  analogous  or  different; 
with  which  it  bore  relation.  What  influence  did  the  gen- 
eral society,  to  which  that  population  belonged,  necessarily 
exercise  upon  civilization? 

I  will  make  a  brief  remark  before  answering  this  ques- 
tion: It  is  true  that  the  possessor  of  the  fief  and  the  priest 
belonged,  one  and  the  other,  to  a  general  society;  they  had 
at  a  distance  numerous  and  frequent  relations.  It  was  not 
the  same  with  the  colonists,  the  serfs;  every  time  that,  in 
order  to  designate  the  population  of  the  country  at  this 
period,  we  make  use  of  a  general  word,  which  seems  to 
imply  one  and  the  same  society,  the  w ovdi  peojjle,  for  exam- 
ple, we  do  not  convey  the  truth.  There  was  for  this  popu- 
lation no  general  society;  its  existence  was  purely  local. 
Beyond  the  territory  which  they  inhabited  the  colonists  had 
no  connection  with  any  thing  or  person.  For  them  there 
was  no  common  destiny,  no  common  country;  they  did  not 
form  a  people.     When  we  speak  of  the  feudal  association 


CIVILIZATION  m  EUROPE.  SO* 

as  a  whole,  it  is  only  the  possessors  of  the  fiefs  that  are 
concerned. 

Let  us  see  what  were  the  relations  of  the  petty  feudal 
society  with  the  general  society  with  which  it  was  connected, 
and  to  what  consequences  these  relations  necessarily  led  as 
regards  the  development  of  civilization. 

You  are  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  the  ties  which 
united  the  possessors  of  the  fiefs  among  themselves,  with 
the  obligations  of  service  on  the  one  hand,  of  protection  on 
the  other.  I  shall  not  enter  into  a  detail  of  these  obliga- 
tions; it  suffices  that  you  have  a  general  idea  of  their  char- 
acter. From  these  obligations  there  necessarily  arose  within 
the  mind  of  each  possessor  of  a  fief  a  certain  number  of 
moral  ideas  and  sentiments,  ideas  of  duty,  sentiments  of 
affection.  The  fact  is  evident  that  the  principle  of  fidelity, 
of  devotion,  of  loyalty  to  engagements,  and  all  sentiments 
connected  therewith,  were  developed  and  sustained  by  the 
relations  of  the  possessors  of  the  fiefs  between  themselves. 

These  obligations,  duties  and  sentiments  endeavored  to 
convert  themselves  into  rights  and  institutions.  Every  one 
•itnows  that  feudalism  desired  legally  to  determine  what 
tvere  the  services  due  from  the  possessor  of  the  fief  toward 
his  suzerain;  what  were  the  services  which  he  might  expect 
h\  return;  in  what  cases  the  vassal  owed  pecuniary  or  mili- 
/ary  aid  to  his  suzerain;  in  what  forms  the  suzerain  ought 
(o  obtain  the  consent  of  his  vassals,  for  services  to  which 
they  were  not  compelled  by  the  simple  tenure  of  their  fiefs. 
Attempts  were  made  to  place  all  their  rights  under  the 
guarantee  of  institutions,  which  aimed  at  insuring  their 
being  respected.  Thus,  the  seignorial  jurisdictions  were 
destined  to  render  justice  between  the  possessors  of  the  fiefs 
upon  claims  carried  before  their  common  suzerain.  Thus, 
also,  each  lord  who  was  of  any  consideration  assembled  his 
vassals  in  a  parliament,  in  order  to  treat  with  them  con- 
cerning matters  which  required  their  consent  or  their  con- 


90  HISTORY  OF 

currence.  In  short,  there  existed  a  collection  of  political, 
judicial  and  military  means,  with  which  attempts  were, 
made  to  organize  the  feudal  system,  converting  the  rela- 
tions between  the  possessors  of  fiefs  into  rights  and 
institutions. 

But  these  rights  and  these  institutions  had  no  reality,  no 
guarantee. 

If  one  is  asked  what  is  meant  by  a  guarantee,  a  political 
guarantee,  one  is  led  to  perceive  that  its  fundamental  char- 
acter is  the  constant  presence,  in  the  midst  of  the  society, 
of  a  will,  of  a  power  disposed  and  in  a  condition  to  impose 
a  law  upon  particular  wills  and  powers,  to  make  them 
observe  the  common  rule  and  respect  the  general  right. 

There  are  only  two  systems  of  political  guarantees  possible: 
it  is  either  necessary  there  should  be  a  particular  will  and 
power  so  superior  to  all  others  that  none  should  be  able  to 
resist  it,  and  that  all  should  be  compelled  to  submit  to  it  as 
soon  as  it  interferes;  or  else  that  there  should  be  a  public 
will  and  power,  which  is  the  result  of  agreement,  of  the 
development  of  particular  wills,  and  which,  once  gone  forth 
from  them,  is  in  a  condition  to  impose  itself  upon,  and  to 
make  itself  respected  equally  by  all. 

Such  are  the  two  possible  systems  of  political  guarantees: 
the  despotism  of  one  or  of  a  body,  or  free  government. 
When  we  pass  systems  in  review,  we  find  that  all  of  them 
Oome  under  one  or  other  of  these  heads. 

Well,  neither  one  nor  the  other  existed,  nor  could  exist, 
under  the  feudal  svstem. 

No  doubt  the  possessors  of  the  fiefs  were  not  all  equal 
among  themselves;  there  were  many  of  superior  power,  many 
powerful  enough  to  oppress  the  weaker.  But  there  was  no 
one,  beginning  from  the  first  of  the  suzerains,  the  king, 
who  was  in  condition  to  impose  law  upon  all  the  others 
and  make  himself  obeyed.  Observe  that  all  the  permanent 
means  of  power  and  action  were  wanting:   there    were 


CIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE.  91 

no  permanent  troops,  no  permanent  taxes,  no  permanent 
tribunals.  The  social  powers  and  institutions  had,  after 
a  manner,  to  recommence  and  create  themselves  anew  every 
time  they  were  required.  A  tribunal  was  obliged  to  be 
constructed  for  every  process,  an  army  whenever  there  was 
a  war  to  be  made,  a  revenue  whenever  money  was  wanted; 
everything  was  occasional,  accidental  and  special;  there 
was  no  means  of  central,  permanent  and  independent  gov- 
ernment. It  is  plain  that,  in  such  a  system,  no  individual 
was  in  a  condition  to  impose  his  will  upon  others,  or  to 
cause  the  general  rights  to  be  respected  by  all. 

On  the  other  hand,  resistance  was  as  easy  as  repression 
was  difficult.  Shut  up  in  his  castle,  having  to  do  only 
with  a  small  number  of  enemies,  easily  finding  among 
vassals  of  his  own  condition  the  means  of  coalition,  and  of 
assistance,  the  possessor  of  the  fief  defended  himself  with 
the  greatest  facility. 

Thus,  then,  we  see  that  the  first  system  of  guarantees, 
the  system  which  places  them  in  the  intervention  of  the 
strongest,  was  not  possible  under  feudalism. 

The  other  system,  that  of  a  free  government,  a  public 
power,  was  equally  impracticable;  it  could  never  have 
arisen  in  the  bosom  of  feudalism.  The  reason  is  sufficiently 
simple.  When  we  speak,  in  the  present  day,  of  a  public 
power,  of  that  which  we  call  the  rights  of  sovereignty,  the 
right  of  giving  laws,  taxing  and  punishing,  we  all  think 
that  those  rights  belong  to  no  one,  that  no  one  has,  on  his 
own  account,  a  right  to  punish  others,  and  to  impose  upon 
them  a  charge,  a  law.  Those  are  rights  which  belong  only 
to  society  in  the  mass,  rights  which  are  exercised  in  its 
name,  which  it  holds  not  of  itself,  but  receives  from  the 
Highest.  Thus,  when  an  individual  comes  before  the 
powers  invested  with  these  rights,  the  sentiment  which, 
perhaps  without  his  consciousness,  reigns  in  him  is,  that 
ie  is  in  the  presence  of  a  public  and  legitimate  power^ 


92  BISTORT  OF 

which  possesses  a  mission  for  commanding  him,  and  he  is 
submissive  beforehand  and  internally.  But  it  was  wholly 
otherwise  under  feudalism.  The  possessor  of  the  fief,  in 
his  domain,  was  invested  with  all  the  rights  of  sovereignty 
Dver  those  who  inhabited  it;  they  were  inherent  to  the 
domain,  and  a  part  of  his  private  property.  What  are  at 
present  public  rights  were  then  private  rights;  what  is  now 
public  power  was  then  private  power.  When  the  possessor 
of  a  fief,  after  having  exercised  sovereignty  in  his  own 
name,  as  a  proprietor  over  all  the  population  amid  which 
he  lived,  presented  himself  at  an  assembly,  a  parliament 
held  before  his  suzerain,  a  parliament  not  very  numerous, 
and  composed  in  general  of  men  who  were  his  equals,  or 
nearly  so,  he  did  not  bring  with  him,  nor  did  he  carry 
away  the  idea  of  a  public  power.  This  idea  was  in  contra- 
diction to  all  his  existence,  to  all  that  he  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  doing  in  the  interior  of  his  own  domains.  He  saw 
there  only  men  who  were  invested  with  the  same  rights  aa 
himself,  who  were  in  the  same  situation,  and,  like  him, 
acted  in  the  name  of  their  personal  will.  Nothing  in  the 
most  elevated  department  of  the  government,  in  what  we 
call  public  institutions,  conveyed  to  him,  or  forced  him  to 
recognize  this  character  of  superiority  and  generality, 
which  is  inherent  to  the  idea  that  we  form  to  ourselves  of 
public  powers.  And  if  he  was  dissatisfied  with  the  decis- 
ion, he  refused  to  agree  with  it,  or  appealed  to  force  for 
resistance. 

Under  the  feudal  system,  force  was  the  true  and  habitual 
guarantee  of  right,  if,  indeed,  we  may  call  force  a  guaran- 
tee. All  rights  had  perpetual  recourse  to  force  to  make 
themselves  recognized  or  obeyed.  No  institution  succeeded 
in  doing  this;  and  this  was  so  generally  felt  that  institu- 
tions were  rarely  appealed  to.  If  the  seignorial  courts  and 
parliaments  of  vassals  had  been  capable  of  imluence,  we 
should   have   met  with  them  in  history  more  irequently 


GIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  ^ 

than  we  do,  and  found  them  exerting  more  activity;  their 
rarity  proves  their  invalidity. 

At  this  we  must  not  be  astonished;  there  is*  a  reason  for 
it,  more  decisive  and  deeply  seated  than  those  which  I  have 
described. 

Of  all  systems  of  government  and  political  guarantee, 
the  federative  system  is  certainly  the  most  difficult  to  estab- 
lish and  to  render  prevalent;  a  system  which  consists  in 
leaving  in  each  locality  and  each  particular  society  all  that 
portion  of  the  government  which  can  remain  there,  and  in 
taking  from  it  only  that  portion  which  is  indispensable  to 
the  maintenance  of  the  general  society,  and  carrying  this 
to  the  center  of  that  society,  there  to  constitute  of  it  a 
central  government.  The  federative  system,  logically  the 
most  simple,  is,  in  fact,  the  most  complex.  In  order  to 
reconcile  the  degree  of  local  independence  and  liberty 
which  it  allows  to  remain,  with  the  degree  of  general  order 
and  submission  which  it  demands  and  supposes  in  certain 
cases,  a  very  advanced  degree  of  civilization  is  evidently 
requisite;  it  is  necessary  that  the  will  of  man,  that  individ- 
ual liberty  should  concur  in  the  establisment  and  mainte- 
nance of  this  system,  much  more  than  in  that  of  any  other, 
for  its  means  of  coercion  are  far  less  than  those  of  anv 
other. 

The  federative  system,  then,  is  that  which  evidently  re- 
quires the  greatest  development  of  reason,  morality  and 
civilization  in  the  society  to  which  it  is  applied.  Well, 
this,  nevertheless,  was  the  system  which  feudalism  endeav- 
ored to  establish;  the  idea  of  general  feudalism,  in  fact, 
was  that  of  a  federation.  It  reposed  upon  the  same  prin- 
ciples on  which  are  founded,  in  our  day,  the  federation  of 
the  United  States  of  America,  for  example.  It  aimed  at 
leaving  in  the  hands  of  each  lord  all  that  portion  of  gov- 
ernment and  sovereignty  which  could  remain  there,  and  to 
carry  to  the  suzerain,  or  to  the  general  assembly  of  barons. 


94  HISTORY  OF 

only  the  least  possible  portion  of  power,  and  that  only  in  cases 
of  absolute  necessity.  You  perceive  the  impossibility  of 
establishing  such  a  system  amid  ignorance,  amid  brutal 
passions — in  short,  in  a  normal  state  so  imperfect  as  that 
of  man  under  feudalism.  The  very  nature  of  government 
was  contradictory  to  the  ideas  and  manners  of  the  very 
men  to  whom  it  was  attempted  to  be  applied.  Who  can 
be  astonished  at  the  ill  success  of  these  endeavors  at  organi- 
zation? 

We  have  considered  feudal  society,  first  in  its  most 
simple  and  fundamental  element,  then  in  its  entirety. 
We  have  examined,  under  these  two  points  of  view,  that 
which  it  necessarily  did,  that  which  naturally  flowed  from 
it,  as  to  its  influence  upon  ^le  course  of  civilization.  I 
conceive  that  we  have  arrived  at  this  double  result: 

First,  federalism  has  exerted  a  great,  and,  on  the  whole, 
a  salutary  influence  upon  the  internal  development  of  the 
individual;  it  has  awakened  in  men's  minds  ideas,  energetic 
sentiments,  moral  requirements,  fine  developments  of  char- 
acter and  passion. 

Secondly,  under  the  social  point  of  view,  it  was  unable 
to  establish  either  legal  order  or  political  guarantees;  it 
was  indispensable  to  the  revival  in  Europe  of  society, 
which  had  been  so  entirely  dissolved  by  barbarism  that  it 
was  incapable  of  a  more  regular  and  more  extended  form; 
but  the  feudal  form,  radically  bad  in  itself,  could  neither 
regulate  nor  extend  itself.  The  only  political  right  which 
the  feudal  system  caused  to  assert  itself  in  European  society 
was  the  right  of  resistance — I  do  not  say  legal  resistance, 
that  could  not  have  place  in  a  society  so  little  advanced. 
The  progress  of  society  consists  precisely  in  substituting, 
on  the  one  hand,  public  powers  for  particular  wills;  on  the 
other,  legal,  for  individual  resistance.  In  this  consists  the 
grand  aim,  the  principal  perfection  of  the  social  order, 
much  latitude  is  left  to  personal  liberty;  then,  when  that 


CIVILIZATIOlSr  IN  EUROPE.  95 

liberty  fails,  when  it  becomes  necessary  to  demand  from  it 
an  account  of  itself,  appeal  is  made  to  public  reason  alone, 
to  determine  the  process  instituted  against  the  liberty  of 
the  individual.  Such  is  the  system  of  legal  order  and  of 
legal  resistance.  You  perceive,  without  difficulty,  that 
'  under  feudalism  there  existed  nothing  of  this  sort.  The 
right  of  resistance  which  the  feudal  system  maintained  and 
practised  was  the  right  of  personal  resistance — a  terrible, 
unsocial  right,  since  it  appeals  to  force  and  to  war,  which 
is  the  destruction  of  society  itself;  a  right  which,  neverthe- 
less, should  never  be  abolished  from  the  heart  of  man,  for 
its  abolition  is  the  acceptation  of  servitude.  The  senti- 
ment of  the  right  of  resistance  had  perished  in  the  disgrace 
of  Koman  society,  and  could  not  rise  anew  from  its  wreck; 
it  could  not  come  more  naturally,  in  my  opinion,  from  the 
principle  of  the  Christian  society.  To  feudalism  we  are 
indebted  for  its  re-introduction  into  the  manners  of  Europe. 
It  is  the  boast  of  civilization  to  render  it  always  useless  and 
inactive;  it  is  the  boast  of  the  feudal  system  to  have  con- 
stantly professed  and  defended  it. 

Such,  if  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  is  the  result  of  an  ex- 
amination of  feudal  society,  considered  in  itself,  in  its 
general  elements,  and  independently  of  historical  develop- 
ment. If  we  pass  on  to  facts,  to  history,  we  shall  see  that 
has  happened  which  might  have  been  looked  for;  that  the 
feudal  system  has  done  what  it  was  fitted  to  do;  that  its 
•  destiny  has  been  in  conformity  with  its  nature.  Events 
may  be  adduced  in  proof  of  all  the  conjectures  and  infer- 
ences which  I  have  drawn  from  the  very  nature  of  this 
system. 

Cast  a  glance  upon  the  general  history  of  feudalism  be- 
tween the  tenth  and  thirteenth  centuries;  it  is  impossible  to 
mistake  the  great  and  salutary  influence  exerted  by  it  upon 
the  development  of  sentiments,  characters,  and  ideas.  We 
cannot  look  into  the  history  of  this  period  without  meeting 


96  HISTORY  OF 

with  a  crowd  of  noble  sentiments,  great  actions,  fine  dis- 
plays of  humanity,  born  evidently  in  the  bosom  of  feudal 
manners.  Chivalry,  it  is  true,  does  not  resemble  feudalism 
— nevertheless,  it  is  its  daughter:  from  feudalism  issued 
this  ideal  of  elevated,  generous,  loyal  sentiments.  It  says 
much  in  fa\or  of  its  parentage. 

Turn  your  eyes  to  another  quarter:  the  first  bursts  of 
European  imagination,  the  first  attempts  of  poetry  and  of 
literature,  the  first  intellectual  pleasures  tasted  by  Europe 
on  its  quitting  barbarism,  under  the  shelter,  under  the 
wings  of  feudalism,  in  the  interior  of  the  feudal  castles, 
that  all  these  were  born.  This  kind  of  development  of 
humanity  requires  a  movement  in  the  soul,  in  life,  leisure, 
a  thousand  conditions  which  are  not  to  be  met  with  in  the 
laborious,  melancholy,  coarse,  hard  existence  of  the  com- 
mon people.  In  France,  in  England,  in  Germany,  it  id 
with  the  feudal  times  that  the  first  literary  recollections,  the 
first  intellectual  enjoyments  of  Europe  connect  themselves. 

On  the  other,  if  we  consult  history  upon  the  social  in- 
:Suence  of  feudalism,  its  answers  will  always  be  in  harmony 
with  our  conjectures;  it  will  reply  that  the  feudal  system 
has  been  as  much  opposed  to  the  establishment  of  genera] 
order  as  to  the  extension*  of  general  liberty.  Under  what* 
ever  point  of  view  you  consider  the  progress  of  society,  you 
find  the  feudal  system  acting  as  an  obstacle.  Therefore, 
from  the  earliest  existence  of  feudalism,  the  two  forces 
which  have  been  the  grand  motive  powers  of  the  develop- 
ment of  order  and  liberty — on  one  hand  the  monarchical 
power,  the  popular  power  on  the  other;  royalty,  and  the 
people — have  attacked  and  struggled  against  it  unceas- 
ingly. Some  attempts  have,  at  different  times,  been  made 
to  regulate  it,  and  construct  out  of  it  a  state  somewhat 
legal  and  general:  in  England,  such  attempts  were  mad© 
by  William  the  Conquerer  and  his  sons;  in  France,  by  St, 
Louis;  in  Germany,   bv  many  of  the  emperors.     All  at* 


CIVILIZATION  m  EUROPE.  97 

tempts,  all  efforts  have  failed.  The  very  nature  of  feudal 
society  was  repugnant  to  order  and  legality.  In  modern 
ages,  some  men  of  intellect  have  attempted  to  re-establish 
feudalism  as  a  social  system;  they  have  Jesired  to  discover 
therein  a  legal,  regulated  and  progressive  state;  they  have 
made  of  it  an  age  of  gold.  But  ask  them  to  assign  the  age 
of  gold  to  some  particular  place  or  time,  and  they  can  do 
no  such  thing:  it  is  an  Utopia  without  a  date,  a  drama  for 
which  we  find,  in  past  times,  neither  theater  nor  actors. 
The  cause  of  this  error  is  easy  to  discover,  and  it  equally 
explains  the  mistake  of  those  who  cannot  pronounce  the 
name  of  feudalism  without  cursing  it.  Neither  one  party 
nor  the  other  has  taken  the  pains  to  consider  the  double 
aspect  under  which  feudalism  presents  itself;  to  distin- 
guish, on  the  one  hand,  its  influence  upon  the  individual 
development  of  man,  upon  sentiments,  characters  and  pas- 
sions, and,  on  the  other,  its  influence  upon  the  social  state. 
The  one  party  has  not  been  able  to  persuade  itself  that  a 
social  system,  in  which  so  many  beautiful  sentiments,  so 
many  virtues  are  found — in  which  they  behold  the  birth  of 
all  literatures,  and  in  which  manners  assume  a  certain 
elevation  and  nobility — can  have  been  so  bad  and  fatal  as 
it  is  pretended.  The  other  party  has  only  seen  the  wrong 
done  by  feudalism  to  the  mass  of  the  population,  the 
obstacles  opposed  by  it  to  the  establishment  of  order  and 
liberty;  and  this  party  has  not  been  able  to  believe  that 
fine  characters,  great  virtues,  and  any  progress,  can  have 
resulted  from  it.  Both  have  mistaken  the  double  element 
of  civilization;  they  have  not  understood  that  it  consists  of 
two  developments,  of  which  the  one  may,  in  time,  produce 
itself  independently  of  the  other;  although,  after  the 
course  of  centuries,  and  by  means  of  a  long  series  of  cir- 
cumstances, they  must  reciprocally  call  forth  and  lead  to 
each  other. 

For  the  rest,  that  which  feudalism  was  in  theory  it  was  in 


98  HISTORY  OF 

fact;  that  to  which  theory  pointed  as  likely  to  result  from 
it,  has  resulted  from  it.  Individuality  and  energy  of  per- 
sonal existence,  such  was  the  predominating  trait  among  the 
conquerors  of  the  Roman  world;  the  development  of  indi- 
viduality necessarily  resulted,  before  all  things,  from  the 
social  system  which  was  founded  by  and  for  themselves. 
That  which  man  himself  brings  to  a  social  system, 
at  the  moment  of  his  entrance,  his  internal  and  moral 
qualities,  powerfully  influence  the  situation  in  which 
he  establishes  himself.  The  situation,  in  turn,  reacts 
upon  these  qualities,  and  strengthens  and  develops 
them.  The  individual  predomidated  in  the  German 
society  ;  it  was  for  the  benefit  of  the  development  of  the 
individual  that  feudal  society,  the  daughter  of  German 
society,  exerted  its  influence.  We  shall  again  find  the 
same  fact  in  the  different  elements  of  civilization;  thev 
have  remained  faithful  to  their  principle;  they  have  ad- 
vanced and  urged  on  the  world  in  the  direction  which  they 
first  entered.  In  our  next  lecture  the  history  of  the 
church  and  its  influence,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth 
century,  upon  European  civilization,  will  furnish  us  with 
another  and  a  striking  illustration  of  this  fact. 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  99 


FIFTH   LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Religion  is  a  principle  of  association — Con- 
straint  is  not  of  tlie  essence  of  government — Conditions  of  the 
legitimacy  of  a  government:  1.  The  power  must  be  in  the  hands 
of  the  most  worthy;  2.  The  liberty  of  the  governed  must  be 
respected — The  church  being  a  corporation,  and  not  a  caste,  ful- 
filled the  first  of  these  conditions — Of  the  yarious  methods  of 
nomination  and  election  that  existed  therein — It  wanted  the 
*  other  condition,  on  account  of  the  illegitimate  extension  of 
authority,  and  on  account  of  the  abusive  employment  of  force — 
Movement  and  liberty  of  spirit  in  the  bosom  of  the  church — Re- 
lations of  the  church  with  princes — The  independence  of 
spiritual  power  laid  down  as  a  principle — Pretensions  and  efforts 
of  the  church  to  usurp  the  temporal  power. 

We  have  examined  the  nature  and  influence  of  the 
feudal  system;  it  is  with  the  Christian  church,  from  the 
fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  that  we  are  now  to  occupy 
ourselves:  I  say,  with  the  church;  and  I  have  already  laid 
this  emphasis,  because  it  is  not  with  Christianity  properly 
speaking,  with  Christianity  as  a  religious  system,  but  with 
the  church  as  an  ecclesiastical  society,  with  the  Christian 
clergy,  that  I  propose  to  engage  your  attention. 

In  the  fifth  century  this  society  was  almost  completely 
organized;  not  that  it  has  not  since  ^yhen  undergone  many 
and  important  changes;  but  we  may  say  that,  at  that  time, 
the  church,  considered  as  a  corporation,  as  a  government 
of  Christian  people,  had  attained  a  complete  and  indo- 
pendent  existence. 

One  glance  is  enough  to  show  us  an  immense  difference 
between  the  state  of  the  church  and  that  of  the  other  ele* 


190  HISTORY  OF 

merits  of  European  civilization  in  the  fifth  century.  I  have 
mentioned,  as  the  fundamental  elements  of  our  civilization, 
the  municipal  and  feudal  systems,  royalty,  and  the  church. 
The  municipal  system,  in  the  fifth  century,  was  no  more 
than  the  wreck  of  the  Roman  Empire,  a  shadow  without 
life  or  determinate  form.  The  feudal  system  had  not  yet 
■  issued  from  the  chaos.  Royalty  existed  only  in  name.  All 
the  civil  elements  of  modern  society  were  either  in  decay  or 
infancy.  The  church  alone  was,  at  the  same  time,  young 
and  constituted;  it  alone  had  acquired  a  definite  form,  and 
preserved  all  the  vigor  of  early  age;  it  alone  possessed,  at 
once,  movement  and  order,  energy  and  regularity,  that  is 
to  say,  the  two  great  means  of  influence.  Is  it  not,  let  me 
ask  you,  by  moral  life,  by  internal  movement,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  by  order  and  discipline  on  the  other,  that  insti- 
tutions take  possession  of  society?  The  church,  more- 
over, had  mooted  all  the  great  questions  which  interest 
man;  it  busied  itself  with  all  the  problems  of  his  nature, 
and  with  all  the  chances  of  his  destiny.  Thus  its  influence 
upon  modern  civilization  has  been  very  great,  greater,  per- 
haps, than  even  its  most  ardent  adversaries,  or  its  most 
zealous  defenders  have  supposed.  Occupied  with  render- 
ing it  services,  or  with  combating  it,  they  have  regarded  it 
only  in  a  polemical  point  of  view,  and  have  therefore,  I 
conceive,  been  unable  either  to  judge  it  with  equity,  or  to 
measure  it  in  all  its  extent. 

The  Christian  church  in  the  fifth  century  presents  iteelf 
as  an  independent  and  constituted  society,  interposed 
between  the  masters  of  the  w^orld,  the  sovereigns,  tlie  pos- 
sessors of  the  temporal  power  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
people  on  the  other,  serving  as  a  bond  between  them,  and 
influencing  all. 

In  order  completely  to  know  and  comr^rehend  its  action, 
we  must  therefore  consider  it  under  three  aspects:  first  of 
all  we  must  regard  it  in  itself,  make  an  estimate  of  what  it 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  101 

was,  of  its  internal  constitution,  of  the  principles  which 
predominated  in  it,  and  of  its  nature;  we  must  then  exam- 
ine it  in  its  relation  to  the  temporal  sovereignties,  kings, 
lords,  and  others;  lastly,  in  its  relations  to  the  people. 
And  when  from  this  triple  examination  we  shall  have 
deduced  a  complete  picture  of  the  church,  of  its  principles, 
its  situation,  and  the  influence  which  it  necessarily  exer- 
cised, we  shall  verify  our  assertions  by  ai.  appeal  to  history; 
we  shall  find  out  whether  the  facts  and  events,  properly 
so  called,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  are  in  har- 
mony  with  the  results  to  which  we  have  been  led  by  the 
study  of  the  nature  of  the  church,  and  of  its  relations,  both 
with  the  masters  of  the  world  and  with  the  people. 

First  of  all,  let  us  occupy  ourselves  with  the  church  in 
itself,  with  its  internal  condition,  and  its  nature. 

The  first  fact  which  strikes  us,  and  perhaps  the  most 
important,  is  its  very  existence,  the  existence  of  a  religious 
government,  of  a  clergy,  of  an  ecclesiastical  corporation,  of 
a  priesthood,  of  a  religion  in  the  sacerdotal  state. 

With  many  enlightened  men,  these  very  words,  a  body 
of  priesthood,  a  religious  government,  appear  to  determine 
the  question.  They  think  that  a  religion  which  ends  in  a 
body  of  priests,  a  legally  constituted  clergy,  in  short,  a 
governed  religion,  must  be,  taking  all  things  together,  more- 
injurious  than  useful.  In  their  opinion,  religion  is  a  purely 
individual  relation  of  man  to  God;  and  that  whenever  the 
relation  loses  this  character,  whenever  an  external  authority 
comes  between  the  individual  and  the  object  of  religious 
creeds — namely,  God — religion  is  deteriorated,  and  society 
in  danger. 

We  cannot  dispense  with  an  examination  of  this  ques- 
tion. In  order  to  ascertain  what  has  been  the  influence  of 
the  Christian  church,  we  must  know  what  ought  to  be,  by 
the  verv  nature  of  the  institution,  the  influence  of  a  church 
and  of  a  clergy.     In  order  to  appreciate  this  influence,  we* 


102  HISTORY  OF 

must  find  out,  first  of  all,  whether  religion  is,  in  truth, 
purely  individual;  whether  it  does  not  provoke  and  give 
birth  to  something  more  than  merely  a  private  relation 
between  each  man  and  God;  or  whether  it  necessarily 
becomes  a  source  of  new  relations  between  men,  from  which 
s>  religious  society  and  a  government  of  that  society  neces- 
sarily flow. 

If  we  reduce  religion  to  the  religious  sentiment  prop- 
erly so  called,  to  that  sentiment  which  is  very  real, 
though  somewhat  vague  and  uncertain  as  to  its  object, 
^nd  which  we  can  scarcely  characterize  otherwise  than 
by  naming  it, — to  this  sentiment  which  addresses  itself 
sometimes  to  external  nature,  sometimes  to  the  inner- 
most recesses  of  the  soul,  to-day  to  poetry,  to-morrow  to 
the  mysteries  of  the  future,  which,  in  a  word,  wanders 
-everywhere,  seeking  everywhere  to  satisfy'  itself,  and 
fixing  itself  nowhere, — if  we  reduce  religion  bo  this  senti- 
ment, it  seems  evident  to  me  that  it  should  remain  purely 
individual.  Such  a  sentiment  may  provoke  a  momentary 
association  between  men;  it  can,  it  even  ought  to  take 
pleasure  in  sympathy,  nourishing  and  strengthening  itself 
thereby.  But  by  reason  of  its  fluctuating  and  doubtful 
<3haracter  it  refuses  to  become  the  princij)le  of  a  perma- 
nent and  extensive  association,  to  adapt  itself  to  any  sys- 
tem of  precepts,  practices,  and  forms;  in  short,  to  give 
birth  to  a  religious  society  and  government. 

But  either  I  deceive  myself  strangely,  or  this  religious 
sentiment  is  not  the  complete  expression  of  the  religious 
nature  of  man.  Religion,  I  conceive,  is  a  different  thing, 
and  much  more  than  this. 

In  human  nature  and.  in  human  destiny  there  are  prob- 
lems of  which  the  solution  lies  beyond  this  world,  which 
are  connected  with  a  class  of  things  foreign  to  the  visible 
world,  and  which  inveteratelv  torment  the  soul  of  man. 
who  is  fixedly  intent  upon  solving  them.     The  solution  of 


Cl  VILIZATION  m  EUROPE.  103 

these  problems,  creeds,  dogmas,  which  contain  that  solu- 
tion, or  at  least  flatter  themselves  that  they  do,  these  con- 
stitute the  first  object  and  the  first  source  of  religion. 

Another  path  leads  men  to  religion.  To  those  among 
you  who  have  prosecuted  somewhat  extended  philosophical 
studies,  it  is,  I  conceive,  sufficiently  evident  at  present  that 
morality  exists  independently  of  religious  ideas;  that  the 
distinction  of  moral  good  and  evil,  the  obligation  to  shun 
the  evil,  and  to  do  the  good,  are  laws,  which,  like  the  laws 
of  logic,  man  discovers  in  his  own  nature,  and  which  have 
their  principle  in  himself,  as  they  have  their  application  in 
his  actual  life.  But  these  facts  being  decided,  the  inde- 
pendence of  morality  being  admitted,  a  question  arises  in 
the  human  mind — Whence  comes  morality?  To  what  does 
it  lead?  Is  this  obligation  to  do  good,  which  subsists  of 
itself,  an  isolated  fact,  without  author  and  aim?  Does  it 
not  conceal  from,  or  rather  does  it  not  reveal  to  man  a 
destiny  which  is  beyond  this  world?  This  is  a  spontaneous 
and  inevitable  question,  by  which  morality,  in  its  turn, 
leads  man  to  the  door  of  religion,  and  discovers  to  him  a 
sphere  from  which  he  had  not  borrowed  morality. 

Thus,  in  the  problems  of  our  nature,  upon  one  hand, 
and  in  the  necessity  of  discovering  a  sanction,  origin,  and 
aim  for  morality,  on  the  other,  we  find  assured  and  fruitful 
sources  of  religion,  which  thus  presents  itself  under  aspects 
very  different  from  that  of  a  mere  instrument,  as  it  has 
been  described;  it  presents  itself  as  a  collection — first,  of 
doctrines  called  forth  by  problems  which  man  discovers 
within  himself;  and,  of  precepts  which  correspond  to  those 
doctrines,  and  give  to  natural  morality  a  meaning  and  a  sanc- 
tion; second,  of  promises  which  address  themselves  to  the 
hopes  of  humanity  in  the  future.  This  is  what  truly  con- 
stitutes religion;  this  is  what  it  is  at  bottom,  and  not  a 
mere  form  of  sensibility,  a  flight  of  the  imagination,  a 
species  of  poetry. 


104  HISTORY  OF 

Reduced  in  this  manner  to  its  true  elements  and  to  its 
essence,  religion  no  longer  appears  as  a  purely  individual 
fact,  but  as  a  powerful  and  fruitful  principle  of  association. 
Consider  it  as  a  system  of  creeds  and  dogmas:  truth  belongs 
to  no  one;  it  is  universal,  absolute;  men  must  seek  and 
profess  it  in  common.  Consider  the  precepts  that  associ- 
ate themselves  with  doctrines:  an  obligatory  law  for  one  is 
«5uch  for  all;  it  must  be  promulgated,  it  must  bring  all  men 
under  its  empire.  It  is  the  same  witli  the  promises  made 
by  religion  in  the  name  of  its  creeds  and  precepts:  they 
must  be  spread  abroad,  and  all  men  must  be  called  to 
gather  the  fruits  of  them.  From  the  essential  elements  of 
religion,  then,  you  see  that  the  religious  society  is  born; 
indeed,  it  flows  therefrom  so  infallibly  that  the  word  which 
expresses  the  most  energetic  social  sentiment,  the  most  im- 
perious necessity  of  propagating  ideas  and  extending  a 
society,  is  the  word  proselytism,  a  word  which  applies  above 
all  to  religious  creeds,  and,  indeed,  seems  to  be  almost 
exclusively  consecrated  to  them. 

The  religious  society  being  once  born,  when  a  certain 
number  of  men  become  united  in  common  religious  creeds, 
under  the  law  of  common  religious  precepts,  and  in  com- 
mon religious  hopes,  that  society  must  have  a  government. 
There  is  no  society  which  can  survive  a  week,  an  hour, 
without  a  government.  At  the  very  instant  in  which  the 
society  forms  itself,  and  even  by  the  very  fact  of  its 
formation,  it  calls  a  goverment,  which  proclaims  the 
common  truth,  the  bond  of  the  society,  and  promulgates 
and  supports  the  precepts  which  originate  in  that  truth. 
The  necessity  for  a  power,  for  a  government  over  the 
religious  society,  as  over  every  other,  is  implied  in  the 
fact  of  the  existence  of  that  society.  And  not  only 
is  government  necessary,  but  it  naturally  forms  itself. 
I  must  not  pause  for  any  time  to  explain  how  government 
originates  and  establishes  itself   in  society  in  general.     I 


CIVILIZATION  m  EUROPE,  105 

shall  confine  myself  to  saying  that,  when  things  follow 
their  natural  laws,  when  external  force  does  not  mix  itself 
up  with  them,  power  always  flies  to  the  most  capable,  to 
the  best,  to  those  who  will  lead  society  toward  its  aim.  In 
a  warlike  expedition  the  bravest  obtain  the  power.  If 
research  or  skillful  enterprise  is  the  object  of  an  association^ 
the  mosfc  capable  will  be  at  the  head  of  it.  In  all  things, 
when  the  world  is  left  to  its  natural  course,  the  natural 
inequality  of  men  freely  displays  itself,  and  each  takes  the 
place  which  he  is  capable  of  occupying.  Well,  as  regards 
religion,  men  are  no  more  equal  in  talents,  faculties  and 
power  than  in  the  other  cases;  such  a  one  will  be  better 
able  than  any  other  to  expound  religious  doctrines,  and  to 
cause  them  to  be  generally  adopted;  some  other  bears 
about  him  more  authority  to  induce  the  observance  of 
religious  precepts;  a  third  will  excel  in  sustaining  and 
animating  religious  emotions  and  hopes  in  the  souls  of 
men.  The  same  inequality  of  faculties  and  influence  which 
gives  rise  to  power  in  civil  society  originates  it  equally  in 
religious  society.  Missionaries  arise  and  declare  them- 
selves like  generals.  Thus,  as  on  one  hand  religious 
government  necessarily  flows  from  the  nature  of  religious 
society,  so  on  the  other  it  naturally  develops  itself  therein 
by  the  mere  effect  of  the  human  faculties  and  their  unequal 
partition.  Therefore,  from  the  moment  at  which  religion 
is  born  in  man,  religious  society  develops  itself;  and  from 
the  moment  at  which  religious  society  appears  it  gives  rise 
to  its  government. 

But  now  a  fundamental  objection  arises:  there  is  nothing 
in  this  case  to  ordain  or  impose;  nothing  coercive.  There 
is  no  room  for  government,  since  unlimited  liberty  is  re- 
quired to  exist. 

It  is,  I  conceive,  a  very  rude  and  petty  idea  of  govern- 
ment in  general  to  suppose  that  it  resides  solely,  or  even 
principally,  in  the  force  which  it  exerts  to  make  itself 
obeyed  in  its  coercive  element 


106  HISTORY  OF 

I  leave  the  religious  point  of  view;  I  take  civil  govern- 
ment. I  pray  you  follow  with  me  the  simple  course  oi 
facts.  The  society  exists:  there  is  something  to  be  done, 
no  matter  what,  in  its  interest  and  name;  there  is  a  law  to 
'  make,  a  measure  to  take,  a  judgment  to  pronounce.  As 
J  suredly  there  is  likewise  a  worthy  manner  of  fulfilling 
these  social  wants;  a  good  law  to  make,  a  good  measure  to 
take,  a  good  judgment  to  pronounce  Whatever  may  be 
the  matter  in  hand,  whatever  may  be  the  interest  in  ques- 
tion, there  is  in  every  case  a  truth  that  must  be  known,  a 
truth  which  must  decide  the  conduct  of  the  question. 

The  first  business  of  government  is  to  seek  this  truth,  to 
discover  what  is  just,  reasonable  and  adapted  to  society. 
When  it  has  found  it,  it  proclaims  it.  It  becomes  then 
necessary  that  it  should  impress  it  upon  men's  minds;  that 
the  government  should  make  itself  approved  of  by  those 
upon  whom  it  acts;  that  it  should  persuade  them  of  its 
reasonableness.  Is  there  anything  coercive  in  this?  As- 
suredly not.  Now,  suppose  that  the  truth  which  ought  to 
decide  concerning  the  aifair,  no  matter  what,  suppose,  1 
say,  that  this  truth  once  discovered  and  proclaimed,  im- 
mediately all  understandings  are  convinced,  all  wills  deter- 
mined, that  all  recognize  the  reasonableness  of  the  govern^ 
ment,  and  spontaneously  obey  it;  there  is  still  no  coercion, 
there  is  no  room  for  the  employment  of  force.  Is  it  that  the 
government  did  not  exist?  Is  it  that,  in  all  this,  there  was  no 
government?  Evidently  there  was  a  government  and  it  ful- 
filled its  task.  Coercion  comes  then  only  when  the  resist- 
ance of  individual  will  occurs,  when  the  idea,  the  proceed- 
ing which  the  government  has  adopted,  does  not  obtain 
the  approbation  and  voluntary  submission  of  all.  The 
government  then  employs  force  to  make  itself  obeyed;  this 
is  the  necessary  result  of  human  imperfection,  an  imper- 
fection which  resides  at  once  in  the  governing  power  and 
in  the  society.     There  will  never  be  any  way  of  completely 


V 

CIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE.  107 

avoiding  it;  civil  governments  will  ever  be  compelled  ta 
have  recourse,  to  a  certain  extent,  to  coercion.  But  gov- 
ernments are  evidently  not  constituted  by  coercion:  when- 
ever they  can  dispense  with  it  they  do,  and  to  the  great 
profit  of  all:  indeed,  their  highest  perfection  is  to  dispense 
with  it,  and  to  confine  themselves  to  methods  purely  moral, 
to  the  action  which  they  exert  upon  the  understanding;  sa 
that  the  more  the  government  dispenses  with  coercion,  the 
more  faithful  it  is  to  its  true  nature,  the  better  it  fullfils; 
its  mission.  ^  It  is  not  thereby  reduced  in  power  or  con- 
tracted, as  is  vulgarly  supposed;  it  acts  only  in  another 
manner,  and  in  a  manner  which  is  infinitely  more  general 
and  powerful.  Those  governments  which  make  the  great-^ 
est  use  of  coercion  succeed  not  nearly  so  well  as  those  which 
employ  it  scarcely  at  all. 

In  addressing  itself  to  the  understanding,  in  determin- 
ing the  will,  in  acting  by  purely  intellectual  means,  the 
government  instead  of  reducing,  extends  and  elevates 
itself;  it  is  then  that  it  accomplishes  the  most  and  the  great- 
est things.  On  the  contrary,  when  it  is  obliged  incessantly 
to  employ  coercion,  it  contracts  and  lessens  itself,  and 
effects  very  little,  and  that  little  very  ill. 

Thus  the  essence  of  government  does  not  reside  in  coer- 
cion, in  the  employment  of  force;  but  that  which  above  all 
things  constitutes  it,  is  a  system  of  means  and  powers,  con- 
ceived with  the  design  of  arriving  at  the  discovery  of  what 
is  applicable  to  each  occasion;  at  the  discovery  of  truth, 
which  has  a  right  to  rule  society,  in  order  that  afterward 
the  minds  of  men  may  be  brought  to  open  themselves  tO' 
it,  and  adopt  it  vokintarily  and  freely.  The  necessity  for, 
and  the  actual  existence  of  a  government  are  thus  perfectly 
conceivable,  when  there  is  no  occasion  for  coercion,  when 
even  it  is  absolutely  interdicted. 

Well,  such  is  the  government  of  the  religious  society^ 
Undoubtedly,  coercion  is  interdicted  to  it;  undoubtedly^ 


108  BISTORT  OF 

the  employment  of  force  by  it  is  illegitimate,  whatever 
may  be  its  aim,  for  the  single  reason  that  its  exclusive 
territory  is  the  human  conscience:  but  not  less,  therefore, 
does  it  subsist;  not  the  less  has  it  to  accomplish  all  the  acts 
I  have  mentioned.  It  must  discover  what  are  the  religious 
doctrines  which  solve  the  problems  of  the  human  destiny; 
or,  if  there  exists  already  a  general  system  of  creeds  whereby 
those  problems  are  solved,  it  must  discover  and  exhibit  the 
consequences  of  that  system,  as  regards  each  particular 
case;  it  must  promulgate  and  maintain  the  precepts  which 
correspond  to  its  doctrines;  it  must  preach  and  teach  them, 
in  order  that,  when  the  society  wanders  from  them,  it  may 
bring  it  back.  There  must  be  no  coercion;  the  duties  of 
this  government  are,  examining,  preaching  and  teaching 
religious  virtues;  and,  at  need,  admonishing  or  censuring. 
Suppress  coercion  as  completely  as  you  will,  you  will  yet 
behold  all  the  essential  questions  of  the  organization  of  a 
government  arise  and  claim  solutions.  For  example,  the 
question  whether  a  body  of  religious  magistrates  is  neces- 
sary, or  whether  it  is  possible  to  trust  to  the  religious  in- 
spiration of  individuals  (a  question  which  is  debated  be- 
tween the  majority  ot  religious  societies  and  the  Quakers), 
will  always  exist,  it  will  always  be  necessary  to  discuss  it. 
In  like  manner,  the  question,  whether,  when  it  has  been 
agreed  that  a  body  of  religious  magistrates  is  necessary,  we 
should  prefer  a  system  of  equality,  of  religious  ministers 
equal  among  themselves  and  deliberating  in  common,  to 
an  hierarchical  constitution,  with  various  degrees  of  power: 
this  question  will  never  come  to  an  end,  because  you  deny 
all  coercive  power  to  ecclesiastical  magistrates,  whosoever 
they  may  be.  Instead,  then,  of  dissolving  religious 
society  in  order  that  we  may  have  the  right  of  destroying 
religious  government,  we  must  rather  recognize  that  the 
religious  society  forms  itself  naturally,  that  the  religious 
government  flows  as  aaturally  from  the  religious  society, 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  109 

and  that  the  problem  to  be  solved  is  to  ascertain  under 
what  conditions  this  government  should  exist,  what  are 
its  foundations,  principles  and  conditions  of  legitimacy. 
This  is  the  real  investigation  which  is  imposed  by  the  neces- 
sary existence  of  a  religious  government  as  of  all  others. 

The  conditions  of  legitimacy  are  the  same  for  the  govern- 
ment of  a  religious  society  as  for  that  of  any  other;  they 
may  be  reduced  to  two:  the  first,  that  the  power  should/ 
attach  itself  to  and  remain  constantly  in  the  hands  of  the 
best  and  most  capable,  as  far,  at  least,  as  human  imperfec- 
tion will  allow  of  its  doing  so;  that  the  truly  superior 
people  who  exist  dispersed  among  the  society  should  be 
sought  for  there,  brought  to  light,  and  called  upon  to 
unfold  the  social  law,  and  to  exercise  power:  the  second  that 
the  power  legitimately  constituted  should  respect  the  legit- 
imate liberties  of  those  over  whom  it  exercises  itself.  In 
these  two  conditions,  a  good  system  of  forming  and  organ- 
izing power,  and  a  good  system  of  guarantees  of  liberty, 
consists  the  worth  of  government  in  general,  whether  relig- 
ious or  civil;  all  governments  ought  to  be  judged  according 
to  this  criterion. 

Instead,  then,  of  taunting  the  church,  or  the  government 
of  the  Christian  world,  with  its  existence,  we  should  find  out 
how  it  was  constituted,  and  whether  its  principles  corre- 
sponded with  the  two  essential  conditions  of  all  good 
government.  Let  us  examine  the  church  in  this  twofold 
view. 

As  regards  the  formation  and  transmission  of  power  in- 
the  church,  there  is  a  word  which  is  often  used  in  speaking 
of  the  Christian  clergy,  and  which  I  wish  to  discard;  it  is 
the  word  caste.  The  body  of  ecclesiastical  magistrates  has 
often  been  called  a  caste.  Look  around  the  world;  take 
any  country  in  which  castes  have  been  produced,  in  India 
or  Egypt;  you  will  see  everywhere  that  the  caste  is  essen- 
tially hereditary;  it  is  the  transmission  of  the  same  posi- 


110  HISTORY  OF 

tion  and  the  same  power  from  father  to  son.  Wherever 
there  is  no  inheritance  there  is  no  caste,  there  is  a  corpora- 
tion; the  spirit  of  a  corporation  has  its  inconveniences,  but 
it  is  very  different  from  the  spirit  of  the  caste.  The  word 
caste  cannot  be  applied  to  the  Christian  church.  The  cel- 
ibacy of  the  priests  prevents  the  Christian  church  from 
ever  becoming  a  caste. 

You  already  see,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  consequences  of 
this  difference.  To  the  system  of  caste,  to  the  fact  of  in- 
heritance, monopoly  is  inevitably  attached.  This  results 
from  the  very  definition  of  the  word  caste.  When  the 
same  functions  and  the  same  powers  become  hereditary  in 
the  same  families,  it  is  evident  that  privilege  must 
have  been  attached  to  them,  and  that  no  one  could  have 
acquired  them  independently  of  his  origin.  In  fact,  this 
was  what  happened;  wherever  the  religious  government 
fell  into  the  hands  of  a  caste  it  became  a  matter  of  privi- 
lege; no  one  entered  into  it  but  those  who  belonged  to  the 
families  of  the  caste.  Nothing  resembling  this  is  met  with 
in  the  Christian  church;  and  not  only  is  there  no  resem- 
blance found,  but  the  church  has  continually  maintained 
the  principle  of  the  equal  admissibility  of  all  men  to  all  her 
duties  and  dignities,  whatever  may  have  been  their  origin. 
The  ecclesiastical  career,  particularly  from  the  fifth  to  the 
'twelfth  century,  was  open  to  all.  The  church  recruited 
herself  from  all  ranks,  alike  from  the  inferior,  as  well  as  the 
superior;  more  often,  indeed,  from  the  inferior.  Around 
her  all  was  disposed  of  under  the  system  of  privilege;  she 
alone  maintained  the  principle  of  equality  and  competition; 
she  alone  called  all  who  were  possessed  of  legitimate  superiority 
to  the  possession  of  power.  This  was  the  first  great  conse- 
quence which  naturally  resulted  from  her  being  a  body,  and 
not  a  caste. 

Again,  there  is  an  inherent  spirit  in  castes,  the  spirit  of 
immobility.     This   assertion  needs  no  proof.     Open  any 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  HI 

history  and  you  will  see  the  spirit  of  immobility  imprinted 
upon  all  societies,  whether  political  or  religious,  where  the 
system  of  castes  dominated.  The  fear  of  progress,  it  is 
true,  was  introduced  at  a  certain  epoch,  and  up  to  a  certain 
point,  in  the  Christian  church.  But  we  cannot  say  that 
it  has  dominated  there;  we  cannot  say  that  the  Christian 
church  has  remained  immovable  and  stationary;  for  many 
long  ages  she  has  been  in  movement  and  progress;  some- 
times provoked  by  the  attacks  of  an  external  opposition, 
sometimes  impelled  from  within,  by  desires  of  reform  and 
internal  developmento  Upon  the  whole  it  is  a  society 
which  has  continually  changed  and  marched  onward,  and 
which  has  a  varied  and  progressive  history.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  equal  admission  of  all  men  to  the  ecclesi- 
astical functions,  that  the  continued  recruiting  of  the 
church  according  to  principles  of  equality,  has  powerfully 
contributed  to  maintain,  and  incessantly  reanimate  within 
it,  its  life  and  movement,  to  prevent  the  triumph  of  the 
spirit  of  immobility. 

How  could  the  church,  who  thus  admitted  all  men 
to  power,  assure  herself  of  their  right  to  it?  How  could 
she  discover  and  bring  to  light,  from  the  heart  of  society, 
the  legitimate  superiorities  which  were  to  share  the  govern- 
ment? 

Two  principles  were  in  vigor  in  the  church:  First,  the 
election  of  the  inferior  by  the  superior — the  choice,  the 
nomination;  second,  the  election  of  the  superior  by  the 
subordinates — that  is,  an  election  properly  so  called,  what 
we  understand  as  such  in  the  present  day. 

The  ordination  of  priests,  for  instance,  the  power  of 
making  a  man  a  priest,  belonged  to  the  superior  alone. 
The  choice  was  exercised  by  the  superior  over  the  inferior. 
So,  in  the  collation  of  certain  ecclesiastical  benefices,  among 
others,  benefices  attached  to  the  feudal  concessions,  it  was 
the  superior — king,  pope  or  lord — who  nominated  the  in- 


:i2  HISTORY  OF 

cumbent;  in  other  cases,  the  principle  of  election,  properly 
so  called,  was  in  force.  The  bishops  had  long  been,  and  at 
the  epoch  which  occupies  us  were  still  very  often,  elected 
by  the  body  of  the  clergy.  Sometimes  even  the  congrega- 
tions interfered.  In  the  interior  of  monasteries,  the  abbot 
was  elected  by  the  monks.  At  Kome,  the  popes  were 
elected  by  the  college  of  cardinals,  and  at  one  time  even 
the  whole  of  the  Roman  clergy  touK  part  in  the  election. 
You  thus  see  the  two  principles — the  choice  of  the  inferior 
by  the  superior,  and  the  election  of  the  superior  by  the 
subordinate — acknowledged  and  acted  upon  in  the  church, 
especially  at  the  epoch  under  consideration.  It  was  by  one 
or  other  of  these  means  that  she  nominated  the  men  called 
upon  to  exercise  a  portion  of  the  ecclesiastical  power. 

Not  only  were  these  two  principles  co-existent,  but  being 
essentially  different  there  was  a  struggle  between  them. 
After  many  centuries  and  many  vicissitudes  the  nomina- 
tion of  the  inferior  by  the  superior  gained  the  mastery  in 
the  Christian  church;  but  as  a  general  thing,  from  the 
fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  it  was  the  other  principle,  the 
choice  of  the  superior  by  the  subordinate,  which  still  pre- 
vailed. And  do  not  be  surprised  at  the  co-existence  of  two 
principles  so  dissimilar.  Regard  society  in  general,  the 
natural  course  of  the  world,  the  manner  in  which  power  is 
transmitted  in  it,  you  will  see  that  this  transmission  is 
brought  into  force  sometimes  according  to  one  of  these 
principles  and  sometimes  according  to  the  other.  The 
church  did  not  originate  them;  she  found  them  in  the 
providential  government  of  human  things,  and  thence  she 
borrowed  them.  There  is  truth  and  utility  in  each  of 
them;  their  combination  will  often  be  the  best  means  of 
discovering  the  legitimate  power.  It  is  a  great  misfortune, 
in  my  opinion,  that  one  of  these  two,  the  choice  of  the  in- 
ferior by  the  superior,  should  have  gained  the  mastery  in 
the  church;  the  second,  however,  has  never  entirely  pre- 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  113 

vailed;  and  under  various  names,  with  more  or  less  suc- 
cess, it  has  been  reproduced  in  all  epochs,  so  as  at  all  event? 
to  enter  protest  and  interrupt  prescription. 

The  Christian  church  derived,  at  the  epoch  which  occu- 
pies us,  immense  strength  from  its  respect  for  equality  and 
legitimate  superiorities.  It  was  the  most  popular  society, 
the  most  accessible  and  open  to  all  kinds  of  talent,  to  all 
the  noble  ambitions  of  human  nature.  Thence  arose  its 
power,  much  more  than  from  its  riches,  or  from  the  ille- 
gitimate means  which  it  has  too  often  employed. 

As  regards  the  second  condition  of  a  good  government, 
respect  for  liberty,  there  was  much  to  wish  for  in  the 
church. 

Two  evil  principles  met  in  it;  the  one  avowed,  and,  as  it 
were,  incorporated  in  the  doctrines  of  the  church;  the 
other  introduced  into  it  by  human  weakness,  and  not  as  a 
legitimate  consequence  of  doctrines. 

The  first  was  the  denial  of  the  right  of  individual  reason, 
the  pretension  to  transmit  creeds  down  through  the  whole 
religious  society,  without  any  one  having  the  right  to  judge 
for  himself.  It  was  easier  to  lay  down  this  principle  than 
to  make  it  actually  prevail.  A  conviction  does  not  enter 
into,  the  human  intellect  unless  the  intellect  admits  it;  it 
must  make  itself  acceptable.  In  whatever  form  it  presents 
itself,  and  whatever  name  it  evokes,  reason  weighs  it;  and 
if  the  creed  prevail,  it  is  from  being  accepted  by  reason. 
Thus,  under  whatever  form  they  may  be  concealed,  the 
action  of  the  individual  reason  is  always  exerted  upon  the 
ideas  which  are  sought  to  be  imposed  upon  it.  It  is  very 
true  that  reason  may  be  altered;  it  may  to  a  certain  extent 
abdicate  and  mutilate  itself;  it  may  be  induced  to  makt  an 
ill  use  of  its  faculties,  or  not  to  put  in  force  all  the  use  of 
them  to  which  it  has  a  right;  such,  indeed,  has  been  the 
consequence  of  the  ill  principle  admitted  by  the  church; 
but  as  regards  the  pure  and  complete  influence  of  this  prin- 


114  HISTORY  OF 

ciple,  it  never  has  been,  and  never  can  be,  put  into  full 
force. 

The  second  evil  principle  is,  the  right  of  constraint  which 
the  church  arrogates  to  herself — a  right  contrary  to  the 
very  nature  of  religious  society,  to  the  very  origin  of  the 
chu^'ch,  and  her  primitive  maxims — a  right  which  has  been 
Jis]'uted  by  many  of  the  most  illustrious  fathers,  St.  Am- 
brose, St.  Hilary,  St.  Martin,  but  which  has,  notwithstand- 
>ng,  prevailed  and  become  a  dominant  fact.  The  pretension 
of  forcing  to  believe,  if  two  such  words  can  stand  in  juxta- 
position, or  of  physically  punishing  belief,  the  persecution 
of  heresy,  contempt  for  the  legitimate  liberty  of  human 
thought,  this  is  an  error  which  was  introduced  into  the 
church  even  before  the  fifth  century;  and  dearly  has  it  cost 
her. 

If,  then,  we  consider  the  church  in  relation  to  the  liberty 
of  her  members,  we  perceive  that  her  principles  m  this 
respect  were  less  legitimate  and  less  salutary  than  those 
which  presided  at  the  formation  of  the  ecclesiastical 
power.  It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  an  evil 
principle  radically  vitiates  an  institution,  nor  even  that  it 
is  the  cause  of  all  the  evil  which  it  carries  in  its  breast. 
Nothing  more  falsifies  history  than  logic:  when  the  human 
mind  rests  upon  an  idea,  it  draws  from  it  every  possible 
consequence,  makes  it  produce  all  the  effect  it  is  capable  of 
producing,  and  then  pictures  it  in  history  with  the  whole 
retinue.  But  things  do  not  happen  in  this  way;  events  are 
not  so  prompt  in  their  deductions  as  the  human  mind. 
There  is  in  all  things  a  mixture  of  good  and  evil  so  pro- 
found and  invincible  that  wherever  you  penetrate,  when 
you  descend  into  the  most  hidden  elements  of  society  or  the 
soul,  vou  find  there  these  two  orders  of  existent  facts  devel- 
oping  themselves  side  by  side, combating  without  exterminat- 
ing one  another.  Human  nature  never  goes  to  the  extrem- 
itv  either  of  evil  or  ffood:  it  nasses  incessantly  from  one  to 


GIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE.  115 

the  other,  erecting  itself  at  the  moment  when  it  seems  most 
likely  to  fall,  and  weakening  at  the  moment  when  its  walk 
seems  firmest.  We  shall  find  here  that  character  of  dis- 
cordance, variety  and  strife,  which  I  have  remarked  as  being 
the  fundamental  characteristic  of  European  civilization* 
There  is  still  another  general  fact  which  characterizes  the 
government  of  the  church,  and  of  which  it  is  necessary  to 
take  notice. 

At  the  present  day,  when  the  idea  of  government  presenta 
itself  to  us,  whatever  it  may  be,  we  know  that  there  is  no 
pretension  of  governing  other  than  the  external  actions  of 
man — the  civil  relations  of  men  among  themselves;  govern- 
ments profess  to  apply  themselves  to  nothing  more.  With 
regard  to  human  thought,  human  conscience,  and  morality, 
properly  so  called,  with  regard  to  individual  opinions  and 
private  manners,  they  do  not  interfere;  these  fall  within  the 
domain  of  liberty. 

The  Christian  church  did  or  wished  to  do  directly  tha 
contrary;  she  undertook  to  govern  the  liberty,  private  man- 
ners and  opinions  of  individuals.  She  did  not  make  a  code 
like  ours,  to  define  only  actions  at  once  morally  culpable 
and  socially  dangerous,  and  only  punishing  them  in  pro- 
portion as  they  bore  tliis  twofold  character.  She  made  a 
catalogue  of  all  actions  morally  culpable,  and  under  the 
name  of  sins  she  punished  all  with  the  intention  of  repress- 
ing all;  in  a  word,  the  government  of  the  church  did  not 
address  itself,  like  modern  governments,  to  the  external 
man,  to  the  purely  civil  relations  of  men  among  themselves; 
it  addressed  itself  to  the  internal  man,  to  the  thought  and 
conscience,  that  is  to  say,  to  all  that  is  most  private  to  him, 
most  free  and  rebellious  against  constraint.  The  church 
then  from  the  very  nature  of  her  enterprise,  together  with 
the  nature  of  some  of  the  principles  upon  which  she 
founded  her  government,  was  in  danger  of  becoming  tyran- 
nical and  of  employing  illegitimate  force.    But  at  the  same 


116  EISTORT  OF 

time  the  force  encountered  a  resistance  which  it  could  not 
vanquish.  However  little  movement  and  space  are  left 
them,  human  thought  and  liberty  energetically  react  against 
all  attempts  to  subdue  them,  and  at  every  moment  compel 
the  very  despotism  which  they  endure  to  abdicate.  Thus  it 
happened  in  the  bosom  of  ^-he  Christian  church.  You  have 
seen  the  proscription  of  ueresy,  the  condemnation  of  thb 
right  of  inquiry,  the  contempt  for  individual  reason,  and 
the  principle  of  the  imperative  transmission  of  doctrines 
upon  authority.  Well,  show  one  society  in  which  individ- 
ual reason  has  been  more  boldly  developed  than  in  the 
church!  What  are  sects  and  heresies,  if  they  are  not  the 
fruit  of  individual  opinions?  Sects  and  heresies,  all  the 
party  of  opposition  in  the  church,  are  the  incontestable 
proof  of  the  moral  life  and  activity  which  reigned  in  it;  a 
life  tempestuous  and  painful,  overspread  with  perils,  errors, 
crimes,  but  noble  and  powerful,  and  one  that  has  given 
rise  to  the  finest  developments  of  mind  and  intellect.  Leave 
the  opposition,  look  into  the  ecclesiastical  government 
itself;  you  will  find  it  constituted  and  acting  in  a  manner 
very  different  from  what  some  of  its  principles  seem  to  in* 
dicate.  It  denied  the  right  of  inquiry,  and  wished  to 
deprive  individual  reason  of  its  liberty;  and  yet  it  is  to 
reason  that  it  incessantly  appeals,  and  liberty  is  its  dom- 
inant fact.  What  are  its  institutions  and  means  of  action? 
Provincial  councils,  national  councils,  general  councils,  a 
continual  correspondence,  the  incessant  publication  ot 
letters,  admonitions  and  writings.  Never  did  a  government 
proceed  to  such  an  extent  by  discussion  and  common  delib- 
eration. We  might  suppose  ourselves  in  the  heart  of  the 
Greek  schools  of  philosophy;  and  yet  it  was  no  mere  dis- 
cussion or  seeking  for  truth  that  was  at  issue;  it  involved 
questions  of  authority,  of  adopting  measures,  of  promul- 
gating decrees;  in  fine,  of  a  government.  But  such  in  the 
very  heart  of  this  government  was  the  energy  of  intellectual 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  117 

life,  that  it  became  the  dominant  and  universal  fact,  to 
which  all  others  gave  way;  and  what  shone  forth  on  all 
sides  was  the  exercise  of  reason  and  liberty. 

I  am  far  from  inferring  that  these  bad  principles  which 
1  have  attempted  to  set  forth,  and  which,  in  my  opinion, 
existed  in  the  system  of  the  church,  remained  in  it  without 
effect.  At  the  epoch  which  now  occupies  us,  they  already 
bore  but  too  bitter  fruit,  and  were  destined  at  a  later  period 
to  bear  fruit  still  more  bitter:  but  they  have  not  accom- 
plished all  the  evil  of  which  they  were  capable,  they  have 
not  stifled  all  the  good  which  grew  in  the  same  soil.  Such 
was  the  church,  considered  in  itself,  in  its  internal  con- 
struction and  nature.  I  now  pass  to  its  relations  with  the 
sovereigns,  the  masters  of  temporal  power.  This  is  the 
second  point  of  view  under  which  I  promised  to  consider  it. 

When  the  Empire  fell — when,  instead  of  the  ancient 
Eoman  system,  the  government,  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
church  had  taken  birth,  with  which  she  had  arisen,  and 
had  habits  in  common  and  ancient  ties,  she  found  herself 
exposed  to  those  barbarian  kings  and  chiefs  who  wandered 
over  the  land  or  remained  fixed  in  their  castles,  and  to 
whom  neither  traditions,  creeds  nor  sentiments  could 
unite  her;  her  danger  was  great,  and  as  great  was  her 
terror. 

A  single  idea  became  dominant  in  the  church:  this  wa9 
to  take  possession  of  the  new-comers,  to  convert  them. 
The  relations  between  the  church  and  the  barbarians  had, 
at  first,  scarcely  any  other  aim.  In  influencing  the  bar* 
barians  it  was  necessary  that  their  senses  and  their  imagina- 
tion should  be  appealed  to.  We  therefore  find  at  this 
epoch  a  great  augmentation  in  the  number,  pomp  and 
variety  of  the  ceremonies  of  worship.  The  chronicles 
prove  that  this  was  the  chief  means  by  which  the  church 
acted  upon  the  barbarians;  she  converted  them  by  splendid 
Bpectacles.     When  they  were  established  and  converted. 


118  HISTORY  OF 

and  when  there  existed  some  ties  between  them  and  the 
church,  she  did  not  cease  to  run  many  dangers  on  their 
part.  The  brutality  and  recklessness  of  the  barbarians 
were  such  that  the  new  creeds  and  sentiments  with  which 
they  were  inspired  exercised  but  little  empire  over  them. 
Violence  soon  reassumed  the  upper  hand,  and  the  church, 
like  the  rest  of  society,  was  its  victim.  For  her  defence 
she  proclaimed  a  principle  formerly  laid  down  under  the 
Empire,  although  more  vaguely — this  was  the  separation  of 
the  spiritual  from  the  temporal  power,  and  their  reciprocal 
independence.  It  was  by  the  aid  of  this  principle  that  the 
church  lived  freely  in  connection  with  the  barbarians;  she 
maintained  that  force  could  not  act  upon  the  system  of 
creeds,  hopes,  and  religious  promises;  that  the  spiritual  world 
and  the  temporal  world  were  entirely  distinct.  You  may  at 
once  see  the  salutary  consequences  resulting  from  this  prin- 
ciple. Independently  of  its  temporal  utility  to  the  church, 
it  had  this  inestimable  effect  of  bringing  about,  on  the  foun- 
dation of  right,  the  separation  of  powers,  and  of  controlling 
them  by  means  of  each  other.  Moreover,  in  sustaining 
the  independence  of  the  intellectual  world,  as  a  general 
thing,  in  its  whole  extent,  the  church  prepared  the  way 
for  the  independence  of  the  individual  intellectual  world — 
the  independence  of  thought.  The  church  said  that  the 
system  of  religious  creeds  could  not  fall  under  the  yoke  of 
force;  and  each  individual  was  led  to  apply  to  his  own  case 
the  language  of  the  church.  The  principle  of  free  inquiry, 
of  liberty  of  individual  thought,  is  exactly  the  same  as  that 
of  the  independence  of  general  spiritual  authority,  with 
regard  to  temporal  power. 

Unhappily,  it  is  easy  to  pass  from  the  desire  for  liberty 
to  the  lust  for  domination.  It  thus  happened  within  the 
bosom  of  the  church;  by  the  natural  development  of  ambi- 
tion and  human  pride,  the  church  attempted  to  establish, 
not  only  the  independence  of  spiritual  power,  but  also  its 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  119 

domination  over  temporal  power.  But  it  must  not  be 
supposed  that  this  pretension  had  no  other  source  than  in 
the  weaknesses  of  human  nature;  there  were  other  more 
profound  sources  which  it  is  of  importance  to  know. 

When  liberty  reigns  in  the  intellectual  world,  when 
thought  and  human  conscience  are  not  subjected  to  a 
power  which  disputes  their  right  to  debate  and  decide,  or 
employs  force  against  them;  when  there  is  no  visible  and 
constituted  spiritual  government,  claiming  and  exercising 
the  right  to  dictate  opinions;  then  the  idea  of  the  domina- 
tion of  the  spiritual  over  the  temporal  order  is  impossible. 
Nearly  such  is  the  present  state  of  the  world.  But  when 
there  exists,  as  there  did  exist  in  the  tenth  century,  a 
government  of  the  spiritual  order;  when  thought  and 
conscience  come  under  laws,  institutions  and  powers 
which  arrogate  to  themselves  the  right  of  command- 
ing and  constraining  them  ;  in  a  word,  when  spiritual 
power  is  constituted,  when  it  actually  takes  possession  of 
human  reason  and  conscience  in  the  name  of  right  and 
and  force,  it  is  natural  that  it  should  be  led  to  assume  the 
domination  over  the  temporal  order,  that  it  should  say: 
"Now!  I  have  right  and  influence  over  that  which  is  most 
elevated  and  independent  in  man;  over  his  thought,  his 
^  internal  will,  and  his  conscience,  and  shall  I  not  kave  right 
over  his  exterior,  material  and  passing  interests:  I  am  the 
interpreter  of  justice  and  truth,  and  am  I  not  allowed  to 
regulate  worldly  affairs  according  to  justice  and  truth?'* . 
In  very  virtue  of  this  reasoning,  the  spiritual  order  was. 
sure  to  attempt  the  usurpation  of  the  temporal  order.  And 
^his  was  the  more  certain  from  the  fact  that  the  spiritual 
order  embraced  every  development  of  human  thought  at 
that  time;  there  was  but  one  science,  and  that  was  theol- 
ogy; but  one  spiritual  order,  the  theological;  all  other 
sciences,  rhetoric,  arithmetic,  even  music,  all  was  com- 
prised in  theology. 


120  HISTORY  OF 

The  spiritual  power,  thus  finding  itself  at  tht  head  of 
all  the  activity  of  human  thought,  naturally  arrogated 
to  itself  the  government  of  the  world.  A  second  cause 
tended  as  powerfully  to  this  end — the  frightful  state  of  the 
temporal  order,  the  violence  and  iniquity  which  prevailed 
in  the  government  of  temporal  societies. 

We,  for  many  centuries,  have  spoken  at  our  ease  of  the 
rights  of  temporal  power;  but  at  the  epoch  under  consid- 
eration the  temporal  was  mere  force,  ungovernable  brig- 
andage. The  church,  however  imperfect  her  notions  still 
were  concerning  morality  and  justice,  was  infinitely  supe- 
rior to  such  a  temporal  government  as  this;  the  cries  of  the 
people  continually  pressed  her  to  take  its  place.  When  a 
pope,  or  the  bishops,  proclaimed  that  a  prince  had  for- 
feited his  rights,  and  that  her  subjects  were  absolved  from 
their  oath  of  fidelity,  this  intervention,  without  doubt 
subject  to  various  abuses,  was  often,  in  particular  cases, 
legitimate  and  salutary.  In  general,  when  liberty  has 
failed  mankind,  it  is  religion  that  has  had  the  charge  of 
replacing  it.  In  the  tenth  century  the  people  were  not  in 
a  state  to  defend  themselves,  and  so  make  their  rights 
available  against  civil  violence:  religion,  in  the  name  of 
Heaven,  interfered.  This  is  one  of  the  causes  which  have 
most  contributed  to  the  victories  of  the  theocratical 
principle. 

There  is  a  third,  which  I  think  is  too  seldom  remarked: 
the  complexity  of  situation  of  the  heads  of  the  church,  the 
variety  of  aspects  under  which  they  have  presented  them- 
selves in  society.  On  one  hand  they  were  prelates, 
members  of  the  ecclesiastical  order,  and  part  of  the  spirit- 
ual power,  and  by  this  title  independent;  on  the  other, 
they  were  vassals,  and,  as  such,  engaged  in  the  bonds  of 
civil  feudalism.  This  is  not  all;  beside  being  vassals  they 
were  subjects;  some  portion  of  the  ancient  relations 
between  the  Koman  emperors,  and   the  bishops,  and   the 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  121 

clergy,  had  now  passed  into  those  between  the  clergy  and 
the  barbarian  sovereigns.  By  a  series  of  causes,  which  it 
would  be  too  tedious  to  develop,  the  bishops  had  been  led 
to  regard,  up  to  a  certain  point,  the  barbarian  sovereigns 
as  the  successors  of  the  Koman  emperors,  and  to  attribute 
to  them  all  their  prerogatives.  The  chiefs  of  the  clergy, 
then,  had  a  threefold  character:  an  ecclesiastical  character, 
and  as  such,  an  independent  one;  a  feudal  character,  one 
as  such  bound  to  certain  duties,  and  holding  by  certain 
services;  and,  lastly,  the  character  of  a  simple  subject,  and 
as  such  bound  to  obey  an  absolute  sovereign.  Now  mark 
the  result.  The  temporal  sovereigns,  who  were  not  less 
covetous  and  ambitious  than  the  bishops,  availed  them- 
selves of  their  rights  as  lords  or  sovereigns  to  encroach 
upon  the  spiritual  independence,  and  to  seize  upon  the 
collation  of  benefices,  the  nomination  of  bishops,  etc.  The 
bishops,  on  their  side,  often  intrenched  themselves  in  their 
spiritual  independence  in  order  to  escape  their  obligations 
as  vassals  or  subjects;  so  that,  on  either  hand,  there  was 
an  almost  inevitable  tendency  which  led  the  sovereigns  to 
destroy  spiritual  independence,  and  the.  heads  of  the 
church  to  make  spiritual  independence  a  means  of  univer- 
sal domination. 

The  result  has  been  shown  in  facts  of  which  no  one  is 
ignorant:  in  the  quarrels  concerning  investitures,  and  in 
the  struggle  between  the  priesthood  and  the  empire.  The 
various  situations  of  the  heads  of  the  church,  and  the  difti- 
culty  of  reconciling  them,  were  the  real  sources  of  the 
uncertainty  and  contest  of  these  pretensions. 

Lastly,  the  church  had  a  third  relation  with  the  sov- 
ereigns, which  was  for  her  the  least  favorable  and  the  most 
unfortunate  of  them  all.  She  laid  claim  to  coaction,  to 
the  right  of  restraining  and  punishing  heresy;  but  she  had 
no  means  of  doing  this;  she  had  not  at  her  disposal  a  phys- 
ical force;  when  she  had  condemned  the  heretic,  she  had 


122  HISTORY  OF 

no  means  of  executing  judgment  upon  him.  What  could 
she  do?  She  invoked  the  aid  of  what  was  called  the  secu- 
lar  arm;  she  borrowed  the  force  of  civil  power  as  a  means 
of  coaction.  And  she  thereby  placed  herself,  in  regard  to 
pvil  power,  in  a  situation  of  dependence  and  inferiority 
^  deplorable  necessity  to  which  she  was  reduced  by  thb 
adoption  of  the  evil  principle  of  coaction  and  persecution. 

It  remains  for  me  to  make  you  acquainted  with  the  rela- 
tions of  the  church  with  the  people,  what  principles  were 
prevalent  in  them,  and  what  consequences  have  thence 
resulted  to  civilization  in  general.  I  shall  afterward 
attempt  to  verify  the  inductions  we  have  here  drawn  from 
the  nature  of  its  institutions  and  principles,  by  means  of 
history,  facts,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  the  destiny  of  the 
church  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century. 


OIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  123 


SIXTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Separation  of  the  governing  and  the  governed 
party  in  the  church — Indirect  influence  of  the  laity  upon  the 
clergy — The  clergy  recruited  from  all  conditions  of  society — In- 
fluence of  the  church  upon  the  public  order  and  upon  legisla- 
tion— The  penitential  system — The  development  of  the  human 
mind  is  entirely  theological — The  church  usually  ranges  itself 
on  the  side  of  power — Not  to  be  wondered  at;  the  aim  of 
religions  is  to  regulate  human  liberty — Different  states  of  the 
church,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century — 1st.  The  imperial 
church — 2d.  The  barbaric  church;  development  of  the  sepa- 
rating principle  of  the  two  powers;  the  monastic  order — 3d.  The 
feudal  church;  attempts  at  organization;  want  of  reform;  Greg- 
ory VII — The  theocratical  church — Regeneration  of  the  spirit  of 
inquiry;  Abailard — Movement  of  the  boroughs — No  connection 
between  these  two  facts. 

We  were  unable,  at  our  last  meeting,  to  terminate  the 
inquiry  into  the  state  of  the  church  from  the  fifth  to  the 
twelfth  century.  After  having  decided  that  it  should  be 
considered  under  three  principal  aspects,  first,  in  itself 
alone,  in  its  internal  constitution,  and  in  its  nature  as  a 
distinct  and  independent  society;  next,  in  its  relations  to 
the  sovereign  and  the  temporal  power;  and  lastly,  in  its 
relations  with  the  people,  we  have  only  accomplished  the 
two  first  divisions  of  this  task.  It  now  remains  for  me  to 
make  you  acquainted  with  the  church  in  its  relations  with 
the  people.  I  shall  afterward  endeavor  to  draw  from  this 
threefold  inquiry  a  general  idea  of  the  influence  of  the 
church  upon  European  civilization  from  the  fifth  to  the 
twelfth  century.     And  lastly,  we  will  verify  our  assertions 


124  HISTORY  OF 

by  an  examination  of  the  facts,   by  the  history  of  the 
church  itself  at  that  epoch. 

You  will  easily  understand  that,  in  speaking  of  the  rela- 
tions of  the  church  with  the  people,  I  am  forced  to  confine 
myself  to  very  general  terms.  I  cannot  enter  into  a  detail 
of  the  practices  of  the  church,  or  of  the  daily  relations  of 
the  clergy  with  the  faithful.  It  is  the  dominant  principles 
and  grand  effects  of  the  system  and  of  the  conduct  of  the 
church  toward  the  Christian  people,  that  I  have  to  place 
before  you. 

The  characteristic  fact,  and,  it  must  so  be  called,  tke 
radical  vice  of  the  relations  of  the  church  with  the  people, 
is  the  separation  of  the  governing  and  the  governed,  the 
non-influence  of  the  governed  in  their  government,  the 
independence  of  the  Christian  clergy  with  regard  to  the 
faithful. 

This  evil  must  have  been  provoked  by  the  state  of  man 
and  of  society,  for  we  find  it  introduced  into  the  Christian 
church  at  a  very  early  period.  The  separation  of  the  clergy 
and  the  Christian  people  was  not  entirely  consummated  at 
the  epoch  under  consideration;  there  was,  on  certain  occa- 
sions, in  the  election  of  bishops  for  instance,  at  least  in 
some  cases,  a  direct  intervention  of  the  Christian  people  in 
its  government.  But  this  intervention  became  by  degrees 
more  weak,  and  of  more  rare  occurrence;  it  was  from  the 
second  century  of  our  era  that  it  begun  visibly  and  rapidly 
to  decline.  The  tendency  to  the  isolation  and  independ- 
ence of  the  clergy  is,  in  a  measure,  the  history  of  the 
church  itself  from  its  very  cradle.  Prom  thence,  it  can 
not  be  denied,  arose  the  greater  portion  of  those  abuses 
which,  at  this  epoch,  and  still  more  at  a  later  period,  have 
cost  so  dear  to  the  church.  We  must  not,  however,  impute 
them  solely  to  this,  nor  regard  this  tendency  to  isolation  as 
peculiar  to  the  Christian  clergy.  There  is  in  the  very 
nature  of  religious  society  a  strong  inclination  to  raise  the 


CIYILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  125 

governing  far  above  the  governed,  to  attribute  to  the  former 
something  distinct  and  divine.  This  is  the  effect  of  the  very 
mission  with  which  they  are  charged,  and  of  the  character 
under  which  they  present  themselves  to  the  eyes  of  people, 
and  such  an  effect  is  more  grievous  in  the  religious  society 
than  in  any  other.  What  is  it  that  is  at  stake  with  the 
governed?  Their  reason,  their  conscience,  their  future 
destiny,  that  is  to  say,  all  that  is  most  near  to  them,  most 
individual,  and  most  free.  We  can  conceive,  to  a  certain 
point,  that  although  great  evil  may  result  therefrom,  a  man 
may  abandon  to  an  external  authority  the  direction  of  his 
material  interests,  and  his  temporal  destiny.  We  can 
understand  the  philosopher,  who,  when  they  came  to  tell  him 
that  his  house  was  on  fire,  answered,  ^^  Go  and  inform  my 
wife;  I  do  not  meddle  in  the  household  affairs. ^^  But, 
when  it  extends  to  the  conscience,  the  thought  and  the  in- 
ternal existence,  to  the  abdication  of  self-government,  to 
the  delivering  one's  self  to  a  foreign  power,  it  is  truly  a  moral 
suicide,  a  servitude  a  hundied-fold  worse  than  that  of  the 
body,  or  than  that  of  the  soul.  Such,  however,  was  the 
evil  which,  without  prevailing  entirely,  as  I  shall  imme- 
diately show,  gradually  usurped  the  Christian  church  in  its 
relations  with  the  faithful.  You  have  already  seen  that, 
for  the  clergy  themselves,  and  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
church,  there  was  no  guarantee  for  liberty.  It  was  far 
worse  beyond  the  church  and  among  the  laity.  Among 
ecclesiastics,  there  was,  at  least,  discussion,  deliberation 
and  a  display  of  individual  faculties;  there  the  excitement 
of  contest  supplied;  in  some  measure,  the  want  of  liberty. 
There  was  none  of  this  between  the  clergy  and  the  people. 
The  laity  took  part  in  the  government  of  the  church  as 
mere  spectators.  Thus  we  see  springing  up  and  prevail- 
ing at  a  very  early  period,  the  idea  that  theology  and  religious 
questions  and  affairs  are  the  privileged  domain  of  the 
clergy;  that  the  clergy  alone  have  the  right,  not  only  of 


126  HISTORY  OF 

deciding,  but  of  taking  part  therein  at  all;  that  in  any 
case  the  laity  can  have  no  kind  of  right  to  interfere.  At 
the  period  under  consideration  this  theory  was  already  in 
full  power;  centuries  and  terrible  revolutions  were  neces- 
sary to  conquer  it,  to  bring  back  within  the  public  domain 
religious  questions  and  science. 

In  the  principle,  then,  as  well  as  in  fact,  the  legal  sepa- 
ration of  the  clergy  and  the  Christian  people  was  almost 
consummated  before  the  twelfth  century. 

I  would  not  have  you  suppose,  however,  that  even  at  this 
epoch  the  Christian  people  were  entirely  without  influence 
in  its  government.  The  legal  intervention  was  wanting,  but 
not  influence — that  is  almost  impossible  in  any  government, 
still  more  so  in  a  government  founded  upon  a  belief  com- 
mon both  to  the  governing  and  the  governed.  Wherever 
this  community  of  ideas  is  developed,  or  wherever  a  similar 
intellectual  movement  prevails  with  the  government  and  the 
people,  there  must  necessarily  exist  a  connection  between 
them  which  no  vice  in  the  organization  can  entirely  de- 
stroy. To  explain  myself  clearly  I  will  take  an  example 
near  to  us,  and  from  the  political  order:  at  no  epoch  in  the 
history  of  France  has  the  French  people  had  less  legal  in- 
fluence on  its  government,  by  means  of  institutions,  than 
in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  under  Louis 
XIV  and  Louis  XV. 

No  one  is  ignorant  that  at  this  period  nearly  all  official 
and  direct  influence  of  the  country  in  the  exercise  of 
authority  had  perished;  yet  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
people  and  the  country  then  exercised  upon  the  govern- 
ment far  more  influence  than  in  other  times — in  the  times, 
for  instance,  when  the  states-general  were  so  often  con- 
voked, when  the  parliament  took  so  important  a  part  in 
politics,  and  when  the  legal  participation  of  the  people  in 
power  was  much  greater. 

It  is  because  there  is  a  force  which  cannot  be  inclosed  by 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  127 

laws,  which,  when  need  is,  can  dispense  with  institutions: 
it  is  the  force  of  ideas,  of  the  public  mind  and  opinion. 
In  France,  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries, 
there  was  a  public  opinion  which  was  much  more  power- 
ful than  at  any  other  epoch.  Although  deprived  of  the 
means  of  acting  legally  upon  the  government,  it  acted 
indirectly  by  the  empire  of  ideas,  which  were  common 
alike  to  the  governing  and  the  governed,  and  by  the  impos- 
sibility which  the  governing  felt  of  taking  no  note  of  the 
opinion  of  the  governed.  A  similar  fact  happened  in  the 
Christian  church  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century; 
the  Christian  people,  it  is  true,  were  deficient  in  legal  action, 
but  there  was  a  great  movement  of  mind  in  religious  mat- 
ters— this  movement  brought  the  laity  and  the  ecclesiastics 
into  conjunction,  and  by  this  means  the  people  influenced 
the  clergy. 

In  all  cases  in  the  study  of  history  it  is  necessary  to  hold 
as  highly  valuable,  indirect  influences;  they  are  much 
more  efficacious,  and  sometimes  more  salutary,  than  is 
generally  supposed.  It  is  natural  that  men  should  wish 
their  actions  to  be  prompt  and  evident,  should  desire  the 
pleasure  of  participating  in  their  success,  power  and 
triumpho  This  is  not  always  possible,  not  always  even  use- 
ful., There  are  times  and  situations  in  which  indirect  and 
/unseen  influences  are  alone  desirable  and  practicable.  I 
will  take  another  example  from  the  political  order.  More 
than  once,  especially  in  1641,  the  English  parliament,  like 
many  other  assemblies  in  similar  crises,  has  claimed  the 
right  of  nominating  directly  the  chief  officers  of  the  crown, 
the  ministers,  councillors  or  state,  etc.;  it  regarded  this 
direct  action  in  the  government  as  an  immense  and  valu- 
able guarantee.  It  has  sometimes  exercised  this  preroga- 
tive, and  always  with  bad  success.  The  selections  were  ill 
concerted,  and  affairs  ill  governed.  But  how  is  it  in  Eng- 
land at  the  present  day?    Is  it  not  the  influence  of  parlia- 


128  HISTORY  OF 

ment  which  decides  the  formation  of  the  ministry,  and  the 
nomination  of  all  the  great  officers  of  the  crown?  Cer- 
tainly; but  then  it  is  an  indirect  and  general  influence, 
instead  of  a  special  intervention.  The  end  at  which  Eng- 
land has  long  aimed  is  gained;  but  by  different  means;  the 
first  means  which  were  tried  had  never  acted  beneficially. 

There  is  a  reason  for  this,  concerning  which  I  ask  your 
permission  to  detain  you  for  a  moment.  Direct  action 
supposes,  in  those  to  which  it  is  confided,  far  more  enlight- 
enment, reason  and  prudence:  as  they  are  to  attain  the 
end  at  once,  and  without  delay,  it  is  necessary  that  they 
should  be  certain  of  not  missing  that  end.  Indirect  influ- 
ences, on  the  contrary,  are  only  exercised  through  obstacles, 
and  after  tests  which  restrain  and  rectify  them;  before 
prospering,  they  are  condemned  to  undergo  discussion,  and 
to  see  themselves  opposed  and  controlled;  they  triumph 
but  slowly,  and,  in  a  measure,  conditionally.  For  this 
reason,  when  minds  are  not  sufficiently  advanced  and 
ripened  to  guarantee  their  direct  action  being  taken  with 
safety,  indirect  influences,  although  often  insufficient, 
are  still  preferable.  It  was  thus  that  the  Christian  people 
influenced  their  government,  very  incompletely,  in  much 
too  limited  an  extent,  I  am  convinced — but  still  they  influ- 
enced ito 

There  was  also  another  cause  of  approximation  between 
the  church  and  the  people;  this  was  the  dispersion,  so  to 
speak,  of  the  Christian  clergy  among  all  social  conditions. 
Almost  everywhere, when  a  church  has  been  constituted  inde- 
pendently of  the  people  whom  it  governed,  the  body  of 
priests  has  been  formed  of  men  nearly  in  the  same  situation; 
not  that  great  inequalities  have  not  existed  among  them,  but 
upon  the  whole  the  government  has  appertained  to  colleges 
of  priests  living  in  common,  and  governing,  from  the  depths 
of  the  temple,  the  people  under  their  law.  The  Christian 
church  was  quite  differently  organized.     From  the  misera- 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  129 

ble  habitation  of  the  serf,  at  the  foot  of  the  feudal  castle, 
to  the  king's  palace  itself,  everywhere  there  was  a  priest,  a 
member  of  the  clergy.  The  clergy  was  associated  with  all 
human  conditions.  This  diversity  in  the  situation  of  the 
Christian  priests,  this  participation  in  all  fortunes,  has 
been  a  grand  principle  of  union  between  the  clergy  and 
the  laity,  a  principle  which  has  been  wanting  in  most 
churches  invested  with  power.  The  bishops  and  chiefs  of 
the  Christian  clergy  were,  moreover,  as  you  have  seen, 
engiiged  in  the  feudal  organization,  and  were  members,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  of  a  civil  and  of  an  ecclesiastical 
hierarchy.  Hence  it  was  that  the  same  interests,  habits 
and  manners,  became  common  to  both  the  civil  and  relig- 
ious orders.  There  has  been  much  complaint,  and  with 
good  reason,  of  bishops  who  have  gone  to  war,  of  priests 
who  have  led  the  life  of  laymen.  Of  a  verity,  it  was  a 
great  abuse,  but  still  an  abuse  far  less  grievous  than  was, 
elsewhere,  the  existence  of  those  priests  who  never  left  the 
temple,  and  whose  life  was  totally  separated  from  that  of 
the  community.  Bishops,  in  some  way  mixed  up  in  civil 
discords,  were  far  more  serviceable  than  priests  who  were 
total  strangers  to  the  population,  to  all  its  affairs  and  its 
manners.  Under  this  connection  there  was  established 
between  the  clergy  and  the  Christian  people  a  parity  of 
destiny  and  situation,  which,  if  it  did  not  correct,  at  least 
lessened  the  evil  of  the  separation  between  the  governing 
and  the  governed. 

This  separation  being  once  admitted,  and  its  limits 
determined  (the  attainment  of  which  object  I  have  just 
attempted),  let  us  investigate  the  manner  in  which  the 
Christian  church  was  governed,  and  in  what  way  it  acted 
upon  the  people  under  its  command.  On  the  one  hand, 
how  it  tended  to  the  development  of  man,  and  the  internal 
progress  of  the  individual;  and  on  the  other  how  it  tended 
to  the  amelioration  of  the  social  condition. 


130  HISTORY  OF 

As  i"j^ari?  the  development  of  the  individual,  I  do  not 
think^  conec^ly  speaking,  that,  at  the  epoch  under  eonsid- 
eration>  the  church  troubled  itself  much  in  the  matter;  it 
endeavored  to  inspire  the  powerful  of  the  world  with 
milder  sentiments,  and  with  more  justice  in  their  relations 
with  the  weak;  it  maintained  in  the  weak  a  moral  life, 
together  with  sentiments  and  desires  of  a  more  elevated' 
order  than  thc«e  to  which  their  daily  destiny  condemed 
them.  Still,  for  the  development  of  the  individual,  prop- 
erly so  called,  and  for  increasing  the  worth  of  man^s  per- 
sonal nature,  I  do  not  think  that  at  this  period  the  church 
did  much,  at  all  events  not  among  the  laity.  What  it  did 
effect  was  confined  to  the  ecclesiastical  society;  it  con- 
cerned itself  much  with  the  development  of  the  clergy,  and 
the  instruction  of  the  priests;  it  had  for  them  schools,  and 
all  the  institutions  which  the  deplorable  state  of  society 
permitted.  But  they  were  ecclesiastical  schools  destined 
only  for  the  instruction  of  the  clergy;  beyond  this,  the 
church  acted  only  indirectly  and  by  very  dilatory  means 
upon  the  progress  of  ideas  and  manners.  It  doubtless  pro- 
voked general  activity  of  mind,  by  the  career  which  it 
opened  to  all  those  whom  it  judged  capable  of  serving  it; 
but  this  was  all  that  it  did  at  thifj  period  toward  the  intel- 
lectual development  of  the  laity. 

It  worked  more,  I  believe,  and  that  in  a  more  efficacious 
manner,  toward  the  amelioration  of  social  society.  There 
uan  be  no  doubt  that  it  struggled  resolutely  against  the 
great  vicf^s  of  the  social  state,  against  slavery,  for  instance. 
It  has  often  been  repeated,  that  the  abolition  of  slavery 
among  modern  people  is  entirely  due  to  Christians.  That, 
I  think,  is  saying  too  much;  slavery  existed  for  a  long 
period  in  the  heart  of  Christian  society  without  it  being 
particularly  astonished  or  irritated,  A  multitude  of  causes, 
and  a  great  development  in  other  ideas  and  principles  of 
civilization  were  necessary  for  the  abolition  of  this  iniquity 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  131 

of  all  iniquities.  It  cannot  be  doubted,  however,  that  the 
church  exerted  its  influence  to  restrain  it.  We  have  an 
undeniable  proof  of  this.  The  greater  part  of  the  forms  of 
enfranchisement,  at  various  epochs,  were  based  upon  relig- 
ious principles;  it  is  in  the  name  of  religious  ideas,  upon 
hopes  of  the  future,  and  upon  the  religious  equality  of 
mankind,  that  enfranchisement  has  almost  always  beeo 
pronounced. 

The  church  worked  equally  for  the  suppression  of  a  crowd 
of  barbarous  customs,  and  for  the  amelioration  of  the 
criminal  and  civil  legislation.  You  know  how  monstrous  and 
absurd  this  legislation  then  was,  despite  some  principles 
of  liberty  in  it;  you  also  know  what  ridiculous  proofs,  such 
as  judicial  combat,  and  even  the  simple  oaths  of  a  few  men, 
were  considered  as  the  only  means  of  arriving  at  the  truth. 
The  church  endeavored  to  substitute  in  their  stead  more 
rational  and  legitimate  means.  I  have  already  spoken  of 
the  diiference  which  may  be  observed  between  the  laws  of 
the  Visigoths,  issued  chiefly  from  the  councils  of  Toledo 
and  other  barbarous  laws.  It  is  impossible  to  compare 
them  without  being  struck  by  the  immense  superiority  of 
the  ideas  of  the  church  in  matters  of  legislation,  justice 
and  in  all  that  interests  the  search  for  truth  and  the  des- 
tiny of  mankind.  Doubtless  many  of  these  ideas  w^ere 
borrowed  from  the  Roman  legislation;  but  had  not  tho 
church  preserved  and  defended  them,  if  it  had  not  worked 
their  propagation,  they  would,  doubtless,  nave  perished. 
For  example,  as  regards  the  employment  of  the  oath  in 
lecjal  procedure,  open  the  law  of  the  Visigoths  and  you 
will  see  w^ith  what  wisdom  it  is  used: 

^'  Let  the  judge,  that  he  may  understand  the  cause,  first 
interrogate  the  witnesses,  and  afterw^^rd  examine  the  writ- 
ings, to  the  end  that  the  truth  may  be  discovered  with 
more  certainty,  and  that  the  oath  may  not  be  needlessly 
administered.      The  search  for  truth  requires  that  the 


132  HISTORY  OF 

writings  on  either  side  be  carefully  examined,  and  that  the 
necessity  for  the  oath,  suspended  over  the  heads  of  the 
parties,  arrive  unexpectedly.  Let  the  oath  be  administered 
only  in  those  cases  when  the  judge  can  discover  no  writings, 
proof,  or  other  certain  evidence  of  the  truth/^  {For.  Jud. 
1.  ii.  tit.  i.  21.) 

In  criminal  matters  the  relation  between  the  punish- 
ments and  the  offences  is  determined  according  to  philo. 
sophical  and  moral  notions,  which  are  very  just.  One  may 
there  recognize  the  efforts  of  an  enlightened  legislator  strug- 
gling against  the  violence  and  want  of  reflection  of  bar- 
barous manners.  The  chapter,  De  ccede  et  morte  hominum, 
compared  with  laws  corresponding  thereto  in  other  nations, 
is  a  very  remarkable  example.  Elsewhere  it  is  the  damage 
done  which  seems  to  constitute  the  crime,  and  the  punish- 
ment is.  sought  in  the  material  reparation  of  pecuniary 
composition.  Here  the  crime  is  reduced  to  its  true,  verit- 
able and  moral  element,  the  intention.  The  various  shades 
of  criminality,  absolutely  involuntary  homicide,  homicide 
by  inadvertency,  provoked  homicide,  homicide  with  or 
vyithout  premeditation,  are  distinguished  and  defined 
nearly  as  correctly  as  in  our  codes,  and  the  punishments 
vary  in  just  proportion.  The  justice  of  the  legislator  went 
still  further.  He  has  attempted,  if  not  to  abolish,  at  least 
to  lessen  the  diversity  of  legal  value  established  among 
men  by  the  laws  of  barbarism.  The  only  distinction 
which  he  kept  up  was  that  of  the  free  man  and  the  slave. 
As  regards  free  men,  the  punishment  varies  neither  accord- 
ing to  the  origin  nor  the  rank  of  the  deceased,  but  solely 
according  to  the  various  degrees  of  moral  culpability  of  the 
murderer.  With  regard  to  slaves,  although  not  daring  to 
deprive  the  master  of  all  right  to  life  and  death,  he  at  least 
attempted  to  restrain  it  by  subjecting  it  to  a  public  and_ 
regular  procedure.     The  text  of  the  law  deserves  citation; 

^*  If  no  malefactor  or  accomplice  in  a  crime  should  go 


OIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  133 

unpunished,  with  how  much  more  reason  should  we  con- 
demn those  who  have  committed  homicide  lightly  and 
maliciously!  Therefore,  as  masters,  in  their  pride,  often 
put  their  slaves  to  death,  without  fault  on  their  part,  it  is 
right  that  this  license  should  be  entirely  extirpated,  and 
we  ordain  that  the  present  law  be  perpetually  observed  by 
all.  No  master  or  mistress  can  put  to  death  without 
Jpublic  trial  any  of  their  male  or  female  slaves,  nor  any 
person  dependent  upon  them.  If  a  slave,  or  any  other 
servant,  shall  commit  any  crime  which  will  render  him 
liable  to  capital  punishment,  his  master,  or  accuser,  shall 
immediately  inform  the  judge,  or  the  count,  or  the  duke, 
of  the  place  where  the  crime  was  committed.  After  an 
investigation  into  the  affair,  if  the  crime  be  proved,  let  the 
culprit  undergo,  either  through  the  judge  or  his  own 
master,  the  sentence  of  death  which  he  merits:  provided, 
however,  that  if  the  judge  will  not  put  the  accused  to 
death,  he  shall  draw  up  a  capital  sentence  against  him  in 
writing;  and  then  it  shall  be  in  the  power  of  the  master 
either  to  kill  him  or  spare  his  life.  At  the  same  time,  if 
the  slave  by  a  fatal  audacity,  resisting  his  master,  shall 
strike,  or  attempt  to  strike,  him  with  a  weapon  or  stone, 
and  if  the  master,  while  defending  himself,  should  kill  the 
slave  in  his  rage,  the  master  shall  not  receive  the  punish 
ment  due  to  a  homicide;  but  it  must  be  proved  that  this 
really  was  the  fact,  and  that,  by  the  testimony  or  oath  of 
the  slaves,  male  or  female,  who  may  have  been  present, 
and  by  the  oath  of  the  author  of  the  deed  himself.  Who- 
ever, in  pure  malice,  whether  with  his  own  hand  or  by  that 
of  another,  shall  kill  his  slave  without  public  judgment 
shall  be  reckoned  infamous  and  declared  incapable  of  bear- 
ing testimony,  and  shall  pass  the  remainder  of  his  life  in 
exile  or  penitence,  and  his  goods  shall  fall  to  his  nearest 
heir  to  whom  the  law  accords  the  inheritance."  {For. 
Jud,  1.  vi.  tit.  Vr  1.  12.) 


134  HISTORY  OF 

There  is  one  fact  in  the  institutions  of  the  church  which 
is  generally  not  sufficiently  remarked:  it  is  the  penitential 
system,  a  system  so  much  the  more  curious  to  study  in  the 
present  day  from  its  being,  as  regards  the  principles  and 
applications  of  the  penal  law,  exactly  in  accordance  with 
the  ideas  of  modern  philosophy.  If  you  study  the  nature 
of  the  punishments  of  the  church,  and  the  public  penances 
which  were  its  principal  mode  of  chastisemeut,  you  will  see 
that  the  chief  object  is  to  excite  repentance  in  the  soul  of 
the  culprit  and  moral  terror  in  the  beholders  by  the  exam- 
ple. There  was  also  another  idea  mixed  with  it,  that  of 
expiation.  I  know  not,  as  a  general  thing,  if  it  be  possible 
to  separate  tlie  idea  of  expiation  from  that  of  punishment, 
and  whether  there  is  not  in  all  punishment,  independently 
of  the  necessity  of  provoking  repentance  in  the  culprit  and 
of  deterring  those  who  might  be  tempted  to  become  so,  a 
secret  and  imperious  want  to  expiate  the  wrong  committed.- 
But,  leaving  aside  this  question,  it  is  evident  that  repent- 
ance and  example  are  the  ends  proposed  by  the  church  in 
its  whole  penitential  system.  Is  not  this  also  the  end  of  a 
truly  philosophical  legislation?  Is  it  not  in  the  name  of 
these  principles  that  the  most  enlightened  jurists  of  this 
and  the  past  century  have  advocated  the  reform  of  the 
European  penal  legislation?  Open  their  works,  those  of 
Bentham  for  instance,  and  you  will  be  surprised  by  all  the 
resemblances  which  you  will  meet  with  between  the  penal 
means  therein  proposed  and  those  employed  by  the  church. 
They  certainly  did  not  borrow  them  from  her,  nor  could 
she  have  foreseen  that  one  day  her  example  would  be  in- 
Toked  to  aid  the  plans  of  the  least  devout  of  philosophers. 
Lastly,  she  strove  by  all  sorts  of  means  to  restrain  violence 
and  continual  warfare  in  society.  Every  one  knows  what 
was  the  truce  of  God,  and  numerous  measures  of  a  similar 
kind,  by  which  the  church  struggled  against  the  employ- 
ment of  force  and  strove  to  introduce  more  order  and  gen- 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE,  135 

tleness  into  society.  These  facts  are  so  well  known  that  it 
is  needless  for  me  to  enter  into  details.  Such  are  the  prin- 
cipal points  which  I  have  to  place  before  you  concerning 
the  relations  between  the  church  and  the  people.  We 
have  considered  it  under  the  three  aspects  which  I  first  an- 
nounced; and  have  gained  an  inward  and  outward  knowl* 
edge  of  it,  both  in  its  internal  constitution  and  its  twofold 
position.  It  now  remains  for  us  to  deduct  from  our  knowl- 
edge, by  means  of  induction  and  conjecture,  its  general 
influence  upon  European  civilization.  This,  if  I  mistake 
not,  is  a  work  almost  completed,  or  at  least  far  advanced; 
the  simple  announcement  of  the  dominant  facts  and  prin- 
ciples in  the  church  show  and  explain  its  influence;  the 
results  have,  in  some  measure,  already  passed  before  your 
eyes  with  the  causes.  If,  however,  w^e  attempt  to  recapitu- 
late them,  we  shall,  I  think,  be  led  to  two  general 
assertions. 

The  first  is,  that  the  church  must  have  exercised  a  very 
great  influence  upon  the  moral  and  intellectual  orders  in 
modern  Europe,  upon  public  ideas,  sentiments  and 
manners. 

The  fact  is  evident;  the  moral  and  intellectual  develop- 
ment of  Europe  has  been  essentially  theological.  Survey 
history  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  centuries;  it  is  theol- 
ogy that  possessed  and  directed  the  human  spirit;  all  opin- 
ions are  impressed  by  theology;  philosophical,  political  and 
historical  questions  are  all  considered  under  a  theological 
point  of  view.  So  all-powerful  is  the  church  in  the  intel- 
lectual order,  that  even  the  mathematical  and  physical 
sciences  are  held  in  submission  to  its  doctrines.  The  theo- 
logical spirit  is,  in  a  manner,  the  blood  which  ran  in  the 
veins  of  the  European  world,  down  to  Bacon  and  Descartes. 
For  the  first  time.  Bacon  in  England  and  Descartes  in 
France  carried  intelligence  beyond  the  path  of  theology. 

The  same  fact  is  evident  in  all  branches  of  literature; 


136  HISTORY  OF 

theological  habits,  sentiments  and  language  are  manifest 
at  every  step. 

Upon  the  whole,  this  influence  has  been  salutary;  not 
only  has  it  sustained  and  fertilized  the  intellectual  move- 
ment in  Europe,  but  the  system  of  doctrines  and  precepts, 
under  the  name  of  which  it  implanted  the  movement,  was 
far  superior  to  anything  with  which  the  ancient  world  was 
acquainted.  There  was  at  the  same  time  movement  and 
progress. 

The  situation  of  the  church,  moreover,  gave  an  extent  and 
a  variety  to  the  development  of  the  human  mind  in  the 
modern  world  which  it  had  not  possessed  previously.  In 
the  east,  intellect  is  entirely  religious;  in  Greek  society,  it 
is  exclusively  human;  in  the  one,  humanity,  properly  so 
called,  that  is,  its  actual  nature  and  destiny,  vanishes;  in 
the  other,  it  is  man  himself,  his  actual  passions,  senti- 
ments and  interests  which  occupy  the  whole  stage.  In  the 
modern  world,  the  religious  spirit  is  mixed  up  with  every 
thing,  but  it  excludes  nothing.  Modern  intellect  has  at 
once  the  stamp  of  humanity  and  of  divinty.  Human  sen- 
timents and  interests  occupy  an  important  place  in  our 
literature;  and  yet  the  religious  character  of  man,  that 
portion  of  his  existence  which  links  him  to  another  world, 
appears  in  every  step;  so  that  the  two  great  sources  of  man^s 
development,  humanity  and  religion,  have  flowed  at  one 
time,  and  that  abundantly;  and  despite  all  the  evil  and 
abuses  with  which  it  is  mixed,  despite  many  acts  of  tyranny, 
regarded  in  an  intellectual  point  of  view,  the  influence  of 
the  church  has  tended  more  to  develop  than  compress,  more 
to  extend  than  to  confine. 

Under  a  political  point  of  view,  it  is  otherwise.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  in  softening  sentiments  and  manners, 
in  crying  down  and  exploding  numerous  barbarous  cus- 
toms, the  church  has  powerfully  contributed  to  the  ameli- 
oration of  the  social  state;  but  in  the  political  order,  prop- 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  137 

erly  so  called,  as  regards  the  relations  between  the  govern- 
ment and  the  subject,  between  power  and  liberty,  I  do  not 
think  that,  upon  the  whole,  her  influence  has  been  bene- 
ficial. Under  this  relation,  the  church  has  always  presented 
itself  as  the  interpreter  and  defender  of  two  systems,  the 
theocratic  or  the  Roman  Imperial  system,  that  is,  of  des- 
potism, sometimes  under  a  religious,  and  sometimes  under 
a  civil  form.  Take  all  her  institutions,  and  all  her  legisla- 
tion; take  her  canons  and  procedure:  and  you  will  always 
find,  as  the  dominant  principle,  theocracy  or  the  empire. 
Jf  weak,  the  church  sheltered  herself  under  the  absolute 
power  of  the  emperors;  if  strong,  she  claimed  the  same 
absolutism  on  her  own  account  in  the  name  of  her  spiritual 
power.  We  must  not  confine  ourselves  to  particular  facts 
or  special  instances.  The  church  has,  doubtless,  often  in- 
voked the  rights  of  the  people  against  the  bad  government 
of  the  sovereigns;  and  often  even  approved  of  and  provoked 
insurrection;  has  often  maintained,  in  face  of  the  sovereign, 
the  rights  and  interests  of  the  people.  But  when  the  ques- 
tion of  political  guarantees  has  arisen  between  power  and 
liberty,  when  the  question  was  of  establishing  a  system  of 
permanent  institutions,  which  might  truly  place  liberty 
beyond  the  invasions  of  power,  the  church  has  generally 
ranged  upon  the  side  of  despotism. 

One  need  not  be  much  astonished  at  this,  nor  charge  the 
clergy  with  too  great  a  degree  of  human  weakness,  noi 
suppose  it  a  vice  peculiar  to  the  Christian  church.  There 
is  a  more  profound  and  powerful  cause.  What  does  a  relig- 
ion pretend  to?  It  pretends  to  govern  the  human  passions 
and  the  human  will.  All  religion  is  a  restraint,  a  power,  a 
government.  It  comes  in  the  name  of  divine  law  for  tha 
purpose  of  subduing  human  nature.  It  is  human  liberty, 
then,  with  which  it  chiefly  concerns  itself;  it  is  human 
liberty  which  resists  it,  and  which  it  wishes  to  overcome. 
Such  is  the  enterprise  of  religion,  such  its  mission  and  its 
hone. 


138  HISTORY  OF 

It  is  true,  that  although  human  liberty  is  what  religions 
concern  themselves  with,  although  they  aspire  to  the  ref- 
ormation of  the  will  of  man,  they  have  no  moral  means  of 
acting  upon  him  but  through  himself,  by  his  own  will. 
AVhen  they  act  by  external  means,  by  force,  seduction,  oi 
any  means,  in  fact,  which  are  foreign  to  the  free  concur 
rence  of  man,  when  they  treat  him  as  they  would  water  ol 
wind,  as  a  material  power,  they  do  not  attain  their  end- 
they  neither  reach  nor  govern  the  human  will.  For  relig- 
ions to  accomplish  what  they  attempt,  they  must  mak6« 
themselves  acceptable  to  liberty  itself;  it  is  needful  thaf 
man  should  submit,  but  he  must  do  so  voluntarily  and 
freely,  and  must  preserve  his  liberty  in  the  very  heart  of 
his  submission.  This  is  the  double  problem  which  relig- 
ions are  called  upon  to  solve. 

This  they  have  too  often  overlooked;  they  have  considere(i 
liberty  as  an  obstacle,  not  as  a  means;  they  have  forgotteu. 
the  nature  of  the  force  to  which  they  address  themselves, 
and  have  treated  the  human  soul  as  they  would  a  material 
force.  It  is  in  following  this  eiror  that  they  have  almost 
always  been  led  to  range  themselves  on  the  side  of  power 
and  despotism  against  human  liberty,  regarding  it  only  as 
an  adversary,  and  taking  more  pains  to  subdue  than  to 
secure  it.  If  religions  had  turned  their  means  of  action  to 
good  account,  if  they  had  not  allowed  themselves  to  be 
carried  away  by  a  natural  but  deceitful  inclination,  they 
would  have  seen  that  it  is  necessary  to  guarantee  liberty  in 
order  to  regulate  it  morally;  that  religion  cannot,  nor  ought 
to  act  except  by  moral  means;  they  would  have  respected 
the  will  of  man  in  applying  themselves  to  govern  it.  Thi? 
they  have  too  often  forgotten,  and  religious  power  hail 
ended  in  itself  suffering  as  much  as  liberty. 

I  will  go  no  further  in  the  examination  of  the  general 
consequence  of  the  influence  of  the  church  upon  European 
civilization.     I  have  recapitulated  them  in   this  twofold 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  18^ 

result;  a  great  and  salutary  influence  upon  the  social  and 
moral  order,  an  influence  rather  unfortunate  than  benefi- 
cial on  the  political  order,  properly  so  called.  We  have 
now  to  verify  our  assertions  by  facts,  to  verify  by  history 
that  which  we  have  deduced  from  the  mere  nature  and 
situation  of  the  ecclesiastical  society.  Let  us  see  what  was 
the  fate  of  the  Christian  church  from  the  fifth  to  the 
twelfth  century,  and  whether  the  principles  which  I  have 
placed  before  you,  and  the  results  which  I  have  attempted 
to  draw  from  them,  were  really  developed  as  I  have 
ventured  to  describe. 

You  should  be  careful  not  to  suppose  that  these  princi- 
ples and  consequences  have  appeared  at  the  same  periods, 
and  with  the  same  distinctness  that  I  have  represented 
them.  It  is  a  great  and  too  common  an  error,  when  con- 
sidering the  past  at  the  distance  of  many  centuries,  to  for- 
get the  moral  chronology,  to  forget  (singular  obliviousness!) 
that  history  is  essentially  successive.  Take  the  life  of  a 
man,  of  Cromwell,  Gustavus  Adolphus  or  Cardinal  Riche- 
lieu. He  enters  upon  his  career,  he  moves  and  progresses; 
he  influences  great  events,  and  he  in  his  turn  is  influenced 
by  them;  he  arrives  at  the  goal.  We  then  know  him,  but 
it  is  in  his  whole;  it  is,  as  it  were,  such  as  he  has  issued 
after  much  labor  from  the  workshop  of  Providence.  But 
at  starting  he  was  not  what  he  has  thus  become;  he  has 
never  been  complete  and  finished  at  any  single  period  of 
his  life;  he  has  been  formed  progressively.  Men  are 
formed  morally  as  physically;  they  change  daily;  their 
being  modifies  itself  without  ceasing;  the  Cromwell  of  1650 
was  not  the  Cromwell  of  1640.  There  is  always  a  ground- 
work of  individuality;  it  is  always  the  same  man  who  per- 
severes; but  how  changed  are  his  ideas,  sentiments  and 
will !  What  things  has  he  lost  and  acquired!  At  whatever 
moment  we  look  upon  the  life  of  man  there  is  no  tim:^ 


140  HISTORY  OJf 

when  it  has  been  what  we  shall  see  it  when  its  term  is 
attained. 

It  is  here,  however,  that  most  historians  have  fallen  into 
error;  because  they  have  gained  one  complete  idea  of  man 
they  see  him  such  throughout  the  whole  course  of  his 
career.  For  them,  it  is  the  same  Cromwell  who  enters  par- 
liament in  1628,  and  who  dies  thirty  years  afterward  in  the 
palace  of  Whitehall.  And  with  regard  to  institutions  and 
general  influences,  they  incessantly  commit  the  same  error. 
Let  us  guard  against  it.  I  have  represented  to  you  the 
principles  of  the  church  in  their  entirety,  and  the  develop- 
ment of  the  consequences.  But  remember  that  historically 
the  picture  is  not  correct;  all  has  been  partial  and  success- 
ive, cast  here  and  there  over  space  and  time.  We  must  not 
expect  to  find  this  uniformity,  this  prompt  and  systematic 
connection,  in  the  recital  of  facts.  Here  we  shall  see  one 
principle  springing  up,  there  another;  all  will  be  incom- 
plete, unequal  and  dispersed.  We  must  come  to  modern 
times,  to  the  end  of  the  career,  before  we  shall  find  the  en- 
tire result.  I  shall  now  place  before  you  the  various  states 
through  which  the  church  passed  between  the  fifth  and  the 
twelfth  century.  We  cannot  collect  an  entire  demonstra- 
tion of  the  assertions  which  I  have  placed  before  you,  but 
we  shall  see  sufficient  to  enable  us  to  presume  they  are 
legitimate. 

The  first  condition  in  which  the  church  appears  at  the 
fifth  century  is  the  imperial  state,  the  church  of  the  Eoman 
Empire.  When  the  Roman  Empire  was  on  the  decline 
the  church  thought  herself  at  the  term  of  her  career,  and 
that  her  triumph  was  accomplished.  It  is  true  she  had 
completely  vanquished  paganism.  The  last  emperor  who 
took  the  rank  of  sovereign  pontiff,  which  was  a  pagan 
dignity,  was  the  emperor  Gratian,  who  died  at  the 
end  of  the  fourth  century.  Gratian  was  called  sovereign 
pontiff,  like  Augustus  and  Tiberms.     The  church  likewise 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  141 

thought  herself  at  the  end  of  her  struggle  with  the 
heretics,  especially  with  the  Arians,  the  chief  heretics 
of  the  day.  The  Emperor  Theodosius,  toward  the  end  of 
the  fourth  century,  instituted  against  them  a  complete  and 
severe  legislation.  The  church  then  enjoyed  the  govern- 
ment and  the  victory  over  its  two  most  formidable  enemies. 
It  was  at  this  moment  that  she  saw  the  Roman  Empire  fail 
her,  and  found  herself  in  the  presence  of  other  pagans  and 
heretics,  in  the  presence  of  the  barbarians,  Goths, 
Vandals,  Burgundians  and  Franks.  The  fall  was  immense. 
You  may  easily  conceive  the  lively  attachment  for  the  em- 
pire which  must  have  been  preserved  in  the  bosom  of  the 
church.  Thus  we  see  her  strongly  adhering  to  what  re- 
mained of  it — to  the  municipal  system  and  to  absokite 
power.  And  when  she  had  converted  the  barbarians,  she 
attempted  to  resuscitate  the  empire;  she  addressed  herself 
to  the  barbarous  kings,  conjured  them  to  become  Roman 
emperors,  to  take  all  the  rights  belonging  to  them,  and 
enter  into  the  same  relations  with  the  church  as  that  which 
she  had  maintained  with  the  Roman  Empire.     This  was 

A, 

the  work  of  the  bishops  between  the  fifth  and  the  sixth 
centuries,  the  general  state  of  the  church. 

This  attempt  could  not  be  successful;  there  were  no 
means  of  reforming  the  Roman  society  with  barbarians. 
Like  the  civil  world,  the  church  herself  fell  into  barbarism. 
This  was  its  second  state.  When  one  compares  the  writings 
of  the  ecclesiastical  chroniclers  of  the  eighth  century  with 
those  of  preceding  ages,  the  difference  is  immense.  Every 
wreck  of  Roman  civilization  had  disappeared,  even  the 
language;  everything  felt  itself,  as  it  were,  cast  into  bar- 
barism. On  the  one  hand,  barbarians  entered  the  clerical 
order,  and  became  priests  and  bishops;  and  on  the  other 
hand,  the  bishops  adopted  a  life  of  barbarism,  and  without 
quitting  their  bishoprics,  placed  themselves  at  the  head  of 
bands,   overrunning  the  country,  pillaging,  and  making 


142  BISTORT  OF 

war,  like  the  companions  of  Clovis.  You  will  find  in 
Gregory  of  Tours  mention  of  several  bishops,  among  others 
Saloniis  and  Sagittarius,  who  thus  passed  their  lives. 

Two  important  facts  developed  themselves  in  the  bosom 
of  this  barbarous  church.  The  first  is  the  separation  of 
spiritual  and  temporal  power.  This  principle  took  its  rise 
at  this  epoch.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural.  The 
church  not  having  succeeded  in  resuscitating  the  absolute 
power  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  sharing  it  herself,  was 
forced  to  seek  safety  in  independence.  It  was  necessary 
that  she  should  defend  herself  on  all  sides,  for  she  was  con- 
tinually threatened.  Each  bishop  and  priest  saw  his  bar- 
barous  neighbors  incessantly  interfering  in  the  affairs  of  the 
church,  to  usurp  her  riches,  lands,  and  power;  her  only 
means  of  defence  was  to  say,  "  The  spiritual  order  is  totally 
separate  from  the  temporal;  you  have  not  the  right  to  inter- 
fere in  its  affairs/'  This  principle,  above  all  others,  became 
the  defensive  arm  of  the  church  against  barbarism. 

A  second  important  fact  belonged  to  this  epoch,  the 
development  of  the  monastic  order  in  the  west.  It  is 
known  that  at  the  commencement  of  the  sixth  century,  St. 
Benedict  instituted  his  order  among  the  monks  of  the  west, 
who  were  then  trifling  in  number,  but  who  have  since 
prodigiously  increased.  The  monks  at  this  epoch  were 
not  members  of  the  clergy;  they  were  still  regarded  as  lay- 
men. No  doubt  priests,  or  even  bishops,  were  sought  for 
among  them;  but  it  was  only  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  and 
beginning  of  the  sixth  century  that  the  monks,  in  general 
were  considered  as  forming  a  part  of  the  clergy,  prop- 
erly so-called.  We  then  find  that  priests  and  bishops 
became  monks,  believing  that  by  so  doing  they  made  a 
fresh  progress  in  religious  life.  Thus  the  monastic  order 
in  Europe  took  all  at  once  a  great  development.  The 
monks  struck  the  fancy  of  the  barbarians  far  more  than 
the  secular  clergy.     Their  number  was  as  imposing  as  their 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  143 

Singularity  of  life.  The  secular  clergy,  the  bishop  or  simple 
priest,  were  common  to  the  imagination  of  the  barbarians, 
who  were  accustomed  to  see,  maltreat,  and  rob  them.  It 
was  a  much  more  serious  affair  to  attack  a  monastery, 
ivhere  so  many  holy  men  were  congregated  in  one  holy 
place.  The  monasteries,  during  the  barbaric  epoch,  were 
an  asylum  for  the  church,  as  the  church  was  for  the  laity. 
Pious  men  there  found  a  refuge,  as  in  the  east  they 
sheltered  themselves  in  the  Thebaid,  to  escape  a  worldly 
life  and  the  temptations  of  Constantinople. 

Such  are  the  two  great  facts  in  the  history  of  the  church, 
which  belong  to  the  barbaric  epoch;  on  one  side  the  de- 
velopment of  the  principle  of  separation  between  the 
spiritual  and  temporal  power;  on  the  other,  the  develop- 
ment of  the  monastic  system  in  the  west. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  barbaric  epoch,  there  was  a  new 
attempt  to  resuscitate  the  Roman  Empire  made  by  Charle- 
magne. The  church  and  the  civil  sovereign  again  con- 
tracted a  close  alliance.  This  was  an  epoch  of  great  docil- 
ity, and  hence  one  of  great  progress  for  papacy.  The  at- 
tempt again  failed,  and  the  empire  of  Charlemagne  fell; 
but  the  advantages  which  the  church  had  gained  from  his 
alliance  still  remained  with  her.  Papacy  found  herself 
definitively  at  the  head  of  Christianity. 

On  the  death  of  Charlemagne,  chaos  recommenced;  the 
church  again  fell  into  it  as  well  as  civil  society,  and  only 
left  it  to  enter  the  frame  of  feudalism.  This  was  its  third 
state.  By  the  dissolution  of  the  empire  of  Charlemagne, 
there  happened  almost  the  same  thing  in  the  ecclesiastical 
order  as  in  the  civil  order;  all  unity  disappeared,  all  became 
local,  partial,  and  individual.  There  then  commenced  in 
the  situation  of  the  clergy  a  struggle  which  it  had  never 
experienced  before.  This  was  the  struggle  between  the 
sentiments  and  interests  of  the  fief-holder  and  the  senti- 
ments and  interests  of  the  priest.     The  chiefs  of  the 


144  HISTORY  OF 

cnurch  were  placed  between  these  two  positions,  each 
tended  to  overcome  the  other;  the  ecclesiastical  spirit  was 
no  longer  so  powerful  or  so  universal;  individual  interest 
became  more  influential,  and  the  desire  for  independence 
and  the  habits  of  a  feudal  life,  loosened  the  ties  of  the 
3cclesiastical  hierarchv.  There  was  then  made  in  tijo 
bosom  of  the  church  an  attempt  to  remedy  the  effects  of 
this  relaxation.  They  sought  in  various  quarters,  by  a 
system  of  federation,  and  by  communal  assemblies  and 
deliberations,  to  organize  national  churches.  It  is  at  this 
epoch,  and  under  the  feudal  system,  that  we  find  the 
greatest  number  of  councils,  convocations,  and  ecclesias- 
tical assemblies,  both  provincial  and  national.  It  was  in 
France,  more  especially,  that  this  attempt  at  unity  seemed 
followed  with  the  greatest  ardon  Hincmar,  archbishop  of 
Rheims,  may  perhaps  be  considered  as  the  representative 
of  this  idea.  His  constant  care  was  to  organize  the  French 
church;  he  sought  and  put  in  force  all  the  means  of  corres- 
pondence and  union  which  might  bring  back  some  unity 
into  the  feudal  church.  We  find  Hincmar  maintaining  on 
the  one  side  the  independence  of  the  church  with  regard  to 
its  temporal  power,  and  on  the  other  its  independence  with 
regard  to  papacy;  it  was  he  who,  knowing  that  the  pope 
wished  to  come  into  France,  and  threatened  the  bishops 
with  excommunication,  said,  8i  excommunicaturus  venerity 
excommunicatus  ahihit.  But  this  attempt  to  organize  the 
feudal  church  succeeded  no  better  than  the  attempt  to 
jrganize  the  imperial  church  had  done.  There  were  no 
means  of  establishing  unity  in  this  church.  Its  dissolution 
was  always  increasing.  Each  bishop,  prelate  and  abbot 
isolated  himself  more  and  more  within  his  diocese  or  his 
monastery.  The  disorder  increased  from  the  same  cause. 
This  was  the  time  of  the  greatest  abuses  of  simony,  of  the 
entirely  arbitrary  disposition  of  ecclesiastical  benefices,  and 
of  the  greatest  looseness  of  manners  among  the  priests- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROI'E.  14i> 

This  disorder  greatly  shocked  the  people  and  the  better 
portion  of  the  clergy.  We  thence  see  at  an  early  time,  a 
certain  spirit  of  reform  appear  in  the  church,  and  the 
desire  to  seek  some  authority  which  could  rally  all  these 
elements,  and  impose  law  upon  them.  Claude,  bishop  of 
Turin,  and  Agobard,  archbishop  of  Lyons,  originated  in 
their  dioceses  some  attempts  of  this  nature,  but  they  were 
not  in  a  condition  to  accomplish  such  a  work.  There  was 
within  the  whole  church  but  one  force  adequate  to  it,  and 
that  was  the  court  of  Rome,  the  papacyc  It  was,  therefore, 
not  long  ere  it  prevailed.  The  church  passed  during  the 
course  of  the  eleventh  century  into  its  fourth  state,  that  of 
the  theocratical  ormonastical  church.  The  creator  of  this 
new  form  of  church,  in  so  far  as  a  man  can  create,  was 
Gregory  VII. 

We  are  accustomed  to  represent  to  ourselves  Gregory 
VII  as  a  man  who  wished  to  render  all  things  immovable, 
as  an  adversary  to  intellectual  development  and  social  prog- 
ress, and  as  a  man  who  strove  to  maintain  the  world  in  a 
stationary  or  retrograding  system.  Nothing  can  be  so  false. 
Gregory  VII  was  a  reformer  upon  the  plan  of  despotism, 
lis  were  Charlemagne  and  Peter  the  Great.  He,  in  the 
ecclesiastical  order,  was  almost  what  Charlemagne  in 
France  and  Peter  the  Great  in  Russia  were  in  the  civil 
order.  He  wished  to  reform  the  church,  and  through  the 
church  to  reform  society,  to  introduce  therein  more  mor- 
ality, more  justice,  and  more  law — he  wished  to  effect  this 
through  the  holy  see,  and  to  its  profit. 

At  the  same  time  that  he  strove  to  subject  the  civil 
world  to  the  church,  and  the  church  to  papacy,  with  an 
aim  of  reform  and  progress,  and  not  one  of  immobility  or 
retrogression,  an  attempt  of  the  same  kind  and  a  similar 
movement  was  produced  in  the  heart  of  monasteries.  The 
desire  for  order,  discipline  and  moral  strictness,  was  zeal- 
ously shown.     It  was  at  this  period  that  Robert  de  Mol^me 


146  HISTORY  OF 

introduced  a  severe  order  at  CiteauXc  This  was  the  age  of 
Sfcc  Norbert  and  the  reform  of  the  prebendaries  of  the  re- 
form of  Cluni,  and  lastly,  of  the  great  reform  of  St.  Ber- 
nardo A  general  ferment  reigned  in  the  monasteries,  the 
old  monks  defended  themselves,  declared  it  to  be  an  injuri- 
ous thing,  said  that  their  liberty  was  in  danger,  that  the 
manners  of  the  times  must  be  complied  with,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  return  to  the  primitive  church,  and  treated 
all  the  reformers  as  madmen,  dreamers  and  tyrants.  Open 
the  history  of  Normandy,  by  Oideric  Vital,  and  you  will 
continually  meet  with  these  complaints. 

All  therefore  seemed  tending  to  the  advantage  of  the 
church,  to  its  unity  and  powerc  While  papacy  sought  to 
seize  upon  the  government  of  the  world,  and  while  monas- 
teries reformed  themselves  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  some 
powerful  though  isolated  men  claimed  for  human  reason 
its  right  to  be  considered  as  something  in  man,  and  its 
right  to  interfere  in  his  opinions.  The  greater  part  of 
them  did  not  attack  received  doctrines  nor  religious  creeds; 
they  only  said  that  reason  had  a  right  to  test  them,  and 
that  it  did  not  suffice  that  they  should  be  affirmed  upon 
authority.  John  Erigena,  Eoscelin  and  Abailard  were  the 
interpreters  through  whom  reason  once  more  began  to 
claim  her  inheritance;  these  were  the  first  authors  of  the 
movement  of  liberty  which  is  associated  with  the  move- 
ment of  reform  of  Hildebrand  and  St»  Bernard.  When 
we  seek  the  dominant  character  of  this  movement,  we  find 
that  it  is  not  a  change  of  opinion,  or  a  revolt  against  the 
system  of  public  creeds — it  is  simply  the  right  of  reasoning 
claimed  on  the  behalf  of  reason.  The  pupils  of  Abailard 
asked  him,  as  he  himself  tells  us  in  his  Introduction  to 
TJieology,  "  for  philosophical  argument  calculated  to  satisfy 
the  reason,  supplicating  him  to  instruct  them,  not  to 
repeat  what  he  taught  them,  but  to  understand  it;  because 
nothing  can  be  believed  without  being  understood,  and  it 


CJTILIZA  riON  m  EUROPE,  147 

is  ridiculous  to  preach  things  which  neither  he  who  pro- 
fesses, nor  those  whom  he  teaches,  can  understand. 
.  .  .  To  what  purpose  were  the  study  of  pnilosophy,  if 
not  to  lead  to  the  study  of  God,  to  whom  all  things  should 
be  referred?  With  what  view  are  the  faithful  permitted 
to  read  the  writings  which  treat  of  the  age  and  the  books 
of  the  Gentiles,  unless  to  prepare  them  for  understand- 
ing the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  the  necessary  capacity  for 
defending  them?  In  this  view  it  is  especially  necessary  to 
be  aided  with  all  the  force  of  reason,  so  as  to  prevent,  upon 
questions  so  difficult  and  complicated  as  are  those  which 
form  the  object  of  the  Christian  faith,  the  subtleties  of  its 
enemies  from  easily  contriving  to  adulterate  the  purity  of 
our  faith /^ 

The  importance  of  this  first  attempt  at  liberty,  this 
regeneration  of  the  spirit  of  inquiry,  was  soon  felt. 
Although  occupied  in  reforming  herself,  the  church  did 
not  the  less  take  the  alarm.  She  immediately  declared  war 
against  these  new  reformers,  whose  methods  menaced  her 
more  than  their  doctrines. 

This  is  the  great  fact  which  shone  forth  at  the  end  of 
the  eleventh  and  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century,  at  the 
time  when  the  state  of  the  church  was  that  of  the  theo- 
cratical  or  monastic.  At  this  epoch,  for  the  first  time, 
there  arose  a  struggle  between  the  clergy  and  the  free- 
thinkers. The  quarrels  of  Abailard  and  St.  Bernard,  the 
councils  of  Soissons  and  Sens,  where  Abailard  was  con- 
demned, are  nothing  but  the  expression  of  this  fact,  which 
holds  so  important  a  position  in  the  history  of  modern  civ- 
ilization. It  was  the  principal  circumstance  in  the  state  of 
the  church  in  the  twelfth  century,  at  the  point  at  which 
we  shall  now  leave  it. 

At  the  same  time  a  movement  of  a  different  nature  was 
produced,  the  movement  for  the  enfranchisement  of  the 
boroughs.     Singular  inconsistency  of   rude   and  ignorant 


14:8  HISTORY  OF 

manners!  If  it  had  been  said  to  the  citizens  who  con 
quered  their  liberty  with  so  much  passion,  that  there  were 
men  who  claimed  the  rights  of  human  reason,  the  right  of 
free  inquiry — men  whom  the  church  treated  as  heretics—, 
they  would  have  instantly  stoned  or  burnt  them.  More 
than  once  did  Abailard  and  his  friends  run  this  risk.  On 
the  other  hand,  those  very  writers  who  claimed  the  rights 
of  human  reason,  spoke  of  the  efforts  for  the  enfranchise- 
ment of  the  boroughs  as  of  an  abominable  disorder,  and 
overthrow  of  society.  Between  the  philosophical  and  the 
communal  movement,  between  the  political  and  rational 
enfranchisement,  war  seemed  to  be  declaredo  Centuries 
were  necessary  to  effect  the  reconciliation  of  these  two 
great  powers,  and  to  make  them  understand  that  their 
interests  were  in  common.  At  the  twelfth  century  they 
had  nothing  in  common. 


CIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE.  U9 


SEVENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Comparative  picture  of  the  state  of  the  bor- 
oughs at  the  twelfth  and  the  eighteenth  century — Double  ques- 
tion— 1st.  The  enfranchisement  of  the  boroughs — State  of  the 
towns  from  the  fifth  to  the  tenth  century — Their  decay  and  re- 
generation— Communal  insurrection — Charters — Social  and  moral 
effects  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the  boroughs — 2d.  Internal 
government  of  the  boroughs — Assemblies  of  the  people — Magis- 
trates— High  and  low  burghership — Diversity  of  the  state  of  the 
boroughs  in  the  different  countries  of  Europe. 

We  have  conducted,  down  to  the  twelfth  century,  the 
history  of  the  two  great  elements  of  civilization,  the  feudal 
system  and  the  church.  It  is  the  third  of  these  funda- 
mental elements,  I  mean  the  boroughs,  which  now  we  have 
to  trace  likewise  down  to  the  twelfth  century,  confining  our- 
selves to  the  same  limits  which  we  have  observed  in  the 
other  two. 

We  sliall  find  ourselves  differently  situated  with  regard  to 
the  boroughs,  from  what  we  were  with  regard  to  the 
church  or  the  feudal  system^  From  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth 
century,  or  the  feudal  system  and  the  church,  although  at  a 
later  period  they  experienced  new  developments,  showed 
themselves  almost  complete,  and  in  a  definitive  state;  we 
nave  watched  heir  birth,  increase  and  maturity.  It  is  not 
80  with  the  boroughs.  It  was  only  at  the  end  of  the  epoch 
which  now  occupies  us,  in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centu- 
ries, that  they  take  up  any  position  in  history;  not  but  that 
before  then  they  had  a  history  which  was  deserving  of  study; 
nor  is  it  that  there  were  not  long  before  this  epoch  traces  of 


150  BISTORT  OF 

their  existence;  but  it  was  only  at  the  eleventh  century 
that  they  became  evidently  visible  upon  the  great  scene  of 
the  world,  and  as  an  important  element  of  modern  civiliza- 
tion. Thus,  in  the  feudal  system  and  the  church,  from  the 
fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  we  have  seen  the  effects  born 
and  developed  from  the  causes.  Whenever,  by  way  of  in-i 
duction  or  conjecture,  we  have  deduced  certain  principles 
and  results,  we  have  been  able  to  verify  them  by  an  inquiry 
into  the  facts  themselves.  As  regards  the  boroughs,  this 
facility  fails  us;  we  are  present  only  at  their  birth.  At 
present  I  must  confine  myself  to  causes  and  origins.  What 
I  say  concerning  the  effects  of  the  existence  of  the  bor- 
oughs, and  their  influence  in  the  course  of  European 
civilization,  I  shall  say  in  some  measure  by  way  of  antici- 
pation. I  cannot  invoke  the  testimony  of  contemporaneous 
and  known  facts.  It  is  at  a  later  period,  from  the  twelfth 
to  the  fifteenth  century,  that  we  shall  see  the  boroughs- 
taking  their  development,  the  institution  bearing  all  its 
fruit,  and  history  proving  our  assertions.  I  dwell  upon 
this  difference  of  situation  in  order  to  anticipate  your  ob- 
jections against  the  incompleteness  and  prematurity  of  the 
picture  which  I  am  about  to  offer  you.  I  will  suppose,  that 
in  1789,  at  the  time  of  the  commencement  of  the  terrible 
regeneration  of  France,  a  burgher  of  the  twelfth  century 
had  suddenly  appeared  among  us,  and  that  he  had  been 
given  to  read,  provided  he  knew  how,  one  of  the  pamphlets 
which  so  powerfully  agitated  mind;  for  example,  the  pam- 
phlet of  M.  Sieyes — ^'  Who  is  the  third  estate?^''  His  eyes 
fall  upon  this  sentence,  which  is  the  foundation  of  the 
pamphlet:  '^  The  third  estate  is  the  French  nation,  less  the 
nobility  and  the  clergy. ^^  I  ask  you,  what  would  be  tht 
effect  of  such  a  phrase  upon  the  mind  of  such  a  man?  Do 
you  suppose  he  would  understand  it?  No,  he  could  not 
understand  the  words,  the  French  nation,  because  they 
would  represent  to  him  no  fact  with  which  he  was  ac 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  151 

quainted,  no  fact  of  his  age;  and  if  he  understood  the 
phrase,  if  he  clearly  saw  in  it  this  sovereignity  attributed 
to  the  third  estate  above  all  society,  of  a  verity  it  would 
appear  to  him  mad,  impious,  such  would  be  its  contra- 
diction to  all  that  he  had  seen,  to  all  his  ideas  and  senti- 
ments. 

Now,  ask  this  astonished  burgher  to  follow  you:  lead  him 
to  one  of  the  French  boroughs  of  this  epoch,  to  Rheims, 
Beauvais,  Laon,  or  Noyon;  a  different  kind  of  astonish- 
ment would  seize  him:  he  enters  a  town;  he  sees  neither' 
towers  nor  ramparts,  nor  burgher  militia;  no  means  of 
defence;  all  is  open,  all  exposed  to  the  first  coQier,  and' 
the  first  occupant.  The  burgher  would  doubt  the  safety  of 
this  borough;  he  would  think  it  weak  and  ill-secured.  He 
penetrates  into  the  interior,  and  inquires  what  is  passing, 
in  what  manner  it  is  governed,  and  what  are  its  inhabit- 
ants. They  tell  him  that  beyond  the  walls  there  is  a  power 
which  taxes  them  at  pleasure  without  their  consent;  which 
convokes  their  militia  and  sends  it  to  war  without  their 
voice  in  the  matter.  He  speaks  to  them  of  magistrates,  of 
the  mayor,  and  of  the  aldermen;  and  he  hears  that  the 
burghers  do  not  nominate  them.  He  learns  that  the  affairs 
of  the  borough  are  not  decided  in  the  borough;  but  that  a 
man  belonging  to  the  king,  an  intendant.  \d ministers 
them,  aione  and  at  a  distance.  Furthermore,  they  will  tell 
him  that  the  inhabitants  have  not  the  right  of  assembling 
and  deliberating  in  common  upon  matters  which  concern 
them;  that  they  are  never  summoned  to  the  public  place 
by  the  bell  of  their  church.  The  burgher  of  the  twelfth 
oentury  would  be  confounded.  First,  he  was  stupefied  and 
dismayed  at  the  grandeur  and  importance  that  the  com- 
munal nation,  the  third  estate,  attributed  to  itself;  and 
now  he  finds  it  on  its  own  hearthstone  in  a  state  of  servi- 
tude weakness,  and  nonentity,  far  worse  than  any  thing 
which  he  had  experienced.     He  passes  from  one  spectacle 


152  HISTORY  OF 

to  another  utterly  different,  from  the  view  of  a  sovereign 
burghership  to  that  of  one  entirely  powerless.  How  would 
you  have  him  comprehend  this, — reconcile  it,  so  that  his 
mind  be  not  overcome. 

Let  us  burghers  of  the  nineteenth  century  go  back  to 
the  twelfth  and  be  present  at  an  exactly  corresponding 
double  spectacle.  Whenever  we  regard  the  general  affaira 
of  a  country,  its  state,  its  government,  the  whole  society, 
we  shall  see  no  burghers,  hear,  speak  of  none;  they  inter- 
fere in  nothing,  and  are  quite  unimportant.  And  not 
only  have  they  no  importance  in  the  state,  but  if  we  would 
know  what  they  think  of  their  situation,  and  how  they 
speak  of  it,  and  what  tneir  position  in  regard  to  their  rela- 
tion with  the  government  of  France  in  general  is  in  their 
own  eyes,  we  shall  find  in  their  language  an  extraordinary 
timidity  and  humility.  Their  ancient  masters,  the  lords, 
from  whom  they  forced  their  franchises,  treat  them,  at 
least  in  words,  \\ith  a  haughtiness  which  confounds  us; 
but  it  neither  astonishes  nor  irritates  them. 

Let  us  enter  into  the  borough  itself;  let  us  see  what 
passes  tnere.  The  scene  changes;  we  are  in  a  kind  of  forti- 
fiea  place  defended  by  armed  burghers:  these  burghers 
tax  chemselves,  elect  their  magistrates,  judge  and  punish, 
and  assemble  for  the  purpose  of  deliberating  upon  their 
a&airs.  All  come  to  these  assemblies;  they  make  war  on 
their  own  account  against  their  lord;  and  they  have  a 
militia.  In  a  word,  they  govern  themselves;  they  are 
sovereigns.  This  is  the  same  contrast  which  in  the  France 
of  the  eighteenth  century  so  much  astonished  the  burghers 
of  the  twelfth;  it  is  only  the  parts  that  are  changed. 
in  the  latter,  the  burgher  nation  is  all,  the  borough  noth- 
ing; in  the  former,  the  burghership  is  nothing,  the  bor- 
ough every  thing. 

ilssuredly,  between  the  twelfth  and  the  eighteenth  cen- 
cury,  many  things  must  have  passed — many  extraordinary 


CIVILIZATION  m  EUROPE.  153 

events,  and  many  revolutions  have  been  accomplished,  to 
bring  about,  in  the  existence  of  a  social  class,  so  enormous 
a  change.  Despite  this  change,  there  can  be  no  doubt  but 
that  the  third  estate  of  1789  was,  politically  speaking,  the 
descendant  and  heir  of  the  corporations  of  the  twelfth  cen-» 
tury.  This  French  nation,  so  haughty  and  ambitious, 
which  raises  its  pretensions  so  high,  which  so  loudly  pro- 
claims its  sovereignty,  which  pretends  not  only  to  regener- 
ate and  govern  itself,  but  to  govern  and  regenerate  the 
world,  undoubtedly  descends,  principally  at  least,  from  the 
burghers  who  obscurely  though  courageously  revolted  in 
the  twelfth  century,  with  the  sole  end  of  escaping  in  some 
corner  of  the  land  from  the  obscure  tyranny  of  the  lords. 

Most  assuredly  it  is  not  in  the  state  of  the  boroughs  in 
the  twelfth  century  that  we  shall  find  the  explanation  of 
such  a  metamorphosis:  it  was  accomplished  and  had  its 
causes  in  the  events  which  succeeded  it  from  the  twelfth  to 
the  eighteenth  century;  it  is  there  that  we  shall  meet  it  in 
its  progression.  Still  the  origin  of  the  third  estate  has 
played  an  important  part  in  its  history;  although  we  shall 
not  find  there  the  secret  of  its  destiny,  we  shall,  at  least, 
find  its  germ:  for  what  it  was  at  first  is  again  found  in 
what  it  has  become,  perhaps,  even  to  a  greater  extent  than 
appearances  would  allow  of  our  presuming.  A  picture, 
even  an  incomplete  one,  of  the  state  of  the  boroughs  in 
the  twelfth  century,  will,  I  think,  leave  you  convinced  of 
this. 

The  better  to  understand  this  state,  it  is  necessary  to 
consider  the  boroughs  from  two  principal  points  of  view. 
There  are  two  great  questions  to  resolve:  the  first,  that  of 
the  enfranchisement  of  the  boroughs  itself — the  question 
how  the  revolution  was  operated,  and  from  what  causes — 
what  change  it  brought  into  the  situation  of  the  burghers, 
what  effect  it  has  had  upon  society  in  general,  upon  the 
other  classes  and  upon  the  state.     The  second  question 


154  HISTORY  OF 

relates  only  to  the  government  of  the  boroughs,  the  internal 
condition  of  the  enfranchised  towns,  the  relations  of  the 
burghers  among  themselves,  and  the  principles,  forms  and 
manners  which  dominated  in  the  cities. 

It  is  from  these  two  sources,  on  the  one  hand,  from  the 
change  introduced  into  the  social  condition  of  the  burghtjrs, 
and  on  the  other,  from  their  internal  government  and  their 
communal  condition,  that  all  their  influence  upon  modern 
civilization  originated.  There  are  no  facts  produced  by 
this  influence  but  which  should  be  referred  to  one  or  othe^* 
of  these  causes.  When,  therefore,  we  shall  have  summed 
them  up,  when  we  thoroughly  understand,  on  one  side,  the 
enfranchisement  of  the  boroughs,  and  on  the  other,  the 
government  of  the  boroughs,  we  shall  be  in  possession,  so 
to  speak,  of  the  two  keys  to  their  history. 

Lastly,  I  shall  say  a  word  concerning  the  various  state  of 
the  boroughs  throughout  Europe.  The  facts  which  I  am 
about  to  place  before  you  do  not  apply  indifferently  to  all 
the  boroughs  of  the  twelfth  century,  to  the  boroughs  of 
Italy,  Spain,  England,  or  France;  there  are  certainly  some 
which  belong  to  all,  but  the  differences  are  great  and  im- 
portant. I  shall  point  them  out  in  passing;  we  shall  again 
encounter  them  in  a  later  period  of  civilization,  and  we  will 
then  investigate  them  more  closely. 

To  understand  the  enfranchisement  of  the  boroughs,  it 
is  necessary  to  recall  to  your  minds  what  was  the  state  of 
the  towns  from  the  flfth  to  the  eleventh  century — from  the 
,fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  down  to  the  commencement  of 
the  communal  revolution.  Here,  I  repeat,  the  differences 
were  very  great;  the  state  of  the  towns  varied  prodigiously 
in  the  various  countries  of  Europe;  still  there  are  general 
facts  which  mav  be  affirmed  of  almost  all  towns;  and  I  shall 
try  to  confine  myself  to  them.  When  I  depart  from  this 
restriction,  what  I  say  more  especially  will  apply  to  the 
boroughs  of  France,  and  particularly  to  the  boroughs  of 


GIVILIZA  riON  IN  EUROPE.  155 

the  north  of  France,  beyond  the  Ehone  and  the  Loire. 
These  will  be  the  prominent  points  in  the  picture  which  I 
shall  attempt  to  trace. 

After  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  from  the  fifth  to  the 
tenth  century,  Ihe  condition  of  the  towns  was  one  neither 
of  servitude  nor  liberty.  One  runs  the  same  risk  in  the 
employment  of  words  that  I  spoke  of  the  other  day  in  the 
painting  of  men  and  events.  When  a  society  and  a  lan- 
guage has  long  existed  the  words  take  a  complete,  deter- 
mined and  precise  sense,  a  legal  and  official  sense,  in  a 
manner.  Time  has  introduced  into  the  sense  of  each  term 
a  multitude  of  ideas  which  arise  the  moment  that  it  is  pro- 
nounced, and  which,  not  belonging  to  the  same  date,  are 
not  applicable  alike  to  all  times.  For  example,  the  words 
servitude  and  liberty  call  to  our  minds  in  the  present  day 
ideas  infinitely  more  precise  and  complete  than  the  corre- 
sponding facts  of  the  eighth,  ninth  or  tenth  centuries.  If 
we  say  that,  at  the  eighth  century,  the  towns  were  in  a  state 
of  liberty,  we  say  far  too  much;  in  the  present  day  we  attach 
a  sense  to  the  word  liberty  which  does  not  represent  the 
fact  of  the  eighth  century.  We  shall  fall  into  the  same 
error  if  we  say  that  the  towns  were  in  a  state  of  servitude, 
because  the  word  implies  an  entirely  different  thing  from 
the  municipal  facts  of  that  period. 

I  repeat  that  at  that  time  the  towns  were  neither  in  a 
state  of  servitude  nor  liberty;  they  suffered  all  the  ills 
which  accompany  weakness;  they  were  a  prey  to  the  vio- 
lence and  continual  depredations  of  the  strong;  but  yet, 
despite  all  these  fearful  disorders,  despite  their  impoverish- 
ment and  depopulation,  the  towns  had  preserved  and  did 
still  preserve  a  certain  importance:  in  most  of  them  there 
was  a  clergy,  a  bishop,  who  by  the  great  exercise  of  power, 
and  his  influence  upon  the  population,  served  as  a  con- 
necting link  between  them  and  their  conquerors,  and  thus 
maintained  the  town  in  a  kind  of  independence, and  covered 


156  HISTORY  OF 

it  with  the  shield  of  religion.  Moreover,  there  remained 
in  the  towns  many  wrecks  of  Eoman  institutions.  One 
meets  at  this  epoch  (and  many  facts  of  this  nature  have 
been  collected  by  MM.  de  Savigny  and  Hull  man,  Made- 
moiselle de  Lezardiere,  etc.)  with  frequent  convocations 
of  the  senate,  of  the  curia;  there  is  mention  made  of 
public  assemblies  and  municipal  magistrates.  The 
affairs  of  the  civil  order,  wills,  grants  and  a  multitude  of 
acts  of  civil  life,  were,  legalized  in  the  curia  by  its  magis* 
trates,  as  was  the  case  in  the  Roman  municipality.  The 
remains  of  urban  activity  and  liberty,  it  is  true,  gradually 
disappeared.  Barbarism,  disorder  and  always  increasing 
misfortunes  accelerated  the  depopulation.  The  establish- 
ment of  the  masters  of  the  land  in  the  rural  districts,  and 
the  growing  preponderance  of  agricultural  life,  were  new 
causes  of  decay  to  the  towns.  The  bishops  themselves, 
when  they  had  entered  the  frame  of  feudalism,  placed  less 
importance  on  their  municipal  existence.  Finally,  when 
feudalism  had  completely  triumphed,  the  towns,  without 
falling  into  the  servitude  of  serfs,  found  themselves  entirely 
in  the  hands  of  a  lord,  inclosed  within  some  fief,  and 
robbed  of  all  the  independence  which  had  been  left  tG 
them,  even  in  the  most  barbarous  times,  in  the  first  ages  of 
the  invasion.  So  that  from  the  fifth  century  down  to  the 
time  of  the  complete  organization  of  feudalism  the  con- 
dition of  the  towns  was  always  upon  the  decline. 

When  once  feudalism  was  thoroughly  established,  when 
each  man  had  taken  his  place,  and  was  settled  upon  his 
land,  when  the  wandering  life  had  ceased,  after  some  time 
the  towns  again  began  to  acquire  some  importance  and  to 
display  anew  some  activity.  It  is,  as  you  know,  with 
iliuman  activity  as  with  the  fecundity  of  the  earth;  from 
the  time  that  commotion  ceases  it  reappears  and  makes 
every  thing  germinate  and  flourish.  With  the  least  glimpse 
of  order  and  peace  man  takes  hope,  and  with  hope  goes  to 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  157 

work.  It  was  thus  with  the  towns;  the  moment  that 
feudalism  was  a  little  fixed  new  wants  sprang  up  among 
the  fief-holders,  a  certain  taste  for  progress  and  ameliora- 
tion; to  supply  this  want  a  little  commerce  and  industry 
reappeared  in  the  towns  of  their  domain;  riches  and  popu- 
lation returned  to  them;  slowly,  it  is  true,  but  still  they 
returned.  Among  the  circumstances  which  contributed 
thereto,  one,  I  think,  is  too  little  regarded;  this  is  the  right 
of  sanctuary  in  the  churches.  Before  the  boroughs  had 
established  themselves,  before  their  strength  and  their 
ramparts  enabled  them  to  offer  an  asylum  to  the  afflicted 
population  of  the  country,  when  as  yet  they  had  no  safety 
but  that  afforded  by  the  church,  this  sufficed  to  draw  into 
the  towns  many  unhappy  fugitives.  They  came  to  shelter 
themselves  in  or  around  the  church;  and  it  was  not  only 
the  case  with  the  inferior  class,  with  serfs  and  boors,  who 
sought  safety,  but  often  with  men  of  importance,  rich  out- 
laws. The  chronicles  of  the  time  are  filled  with  examples 
of  this  nature.  One  sees  men,  formerly  powerful  them- 
selves, pursued  by  a  more  powerful  neighbor,  or  even  by 
the  king  himself,  who  abandon  their  domains,  carrying 
with  them  all  they  can,  shut  themselves  up  within  a  town, 
and  putting  themselves  under  the  protection  of  the  church 
become  citizens.  These  kind  of  refugees  have  not  been, 
I  think,  without  their  influence  upon  the  progress  of  the 
towns;  they  introduced  into  them  riches,  and  elements  of 
a  superior  population  to  the  mass  of  their  inhabitants. 
Besides,  who  knows  not  that  when  once  an  association  is 
in  part  formed,  men  flock  to  it,  both  because  they  find 
more  safety  and  also  for  the  mere  sake  of  that  sociability 
which  never  leaves  them? 

By  the  concurrence  of  all  these  causes,  after  the  feudal 
government  was  in  some  manner  regulated,  the  towns 
regained  a  little  strength.  Their  security,  however,  did 
not  return  to  them  in  the  same  proportion.     The  wander- 


158  mSTORT  OF 

ing  life  had  ceased,  it  is  true,  but  the  wandering  life  had 
been  for  the  conquerers,  for  the  new  proprietors  of  the 
soil,  a  principal  means  of  satisfying  their  passions.  When 
they  had  wished  to  pillage  they  made  an  excursion,  they 
went  to  a  distance  to  seek  another  fortune,  anotLer 
domain.  When  each  was  nearly  established,  when  it 
'  became  necessary  to  renounce  this  conquering  vagrancy, 
there  was  no  cessation  of  their  avidity,  their  inordinate 
wants,  nor  their  violent  desires.  Their  weight  then  fell  on 
the  people  nearest  at  hand,  upon  the  towns.  Instead  of  going 
to  a  distance  to  pillage,  they  pillaged  at  home.  The  extor- 
tions of  the  nobility  upon  the  burgesses  were  redoubled 
from  the  commencement  of  the  tenth  century.  Whenever 
the  proprietor  of  a  domain  in  which  a  town  was  situated 
had  any  fit  of  avarice  to  satisfy  it  was  upon  the  burgesses 
that  he  exercised  his  violence.  This,  above  all,  was  the 
epoch  in  which  the  complaints  of  the  burgesses  against  the 
absolute  want  of  security  of  commerce  burst  forth.  The 
merchants,  after  having  made  their  journeys,  were  not  per- 
mitted to  enter  their  towns  in  peace;  the  roads  and  ap- 
proaches were  incessantly  beset  by  the  lord  and  his  fol- 
lowers. The  time  at  which  industry  was  recommencing 
was  exactly  that  in  which  security  was  most  wanting. 
Nothing  can  irritate  a  man  more  than  being  thus  inter- 
fered with  in  his  work,  and  despoiled  of  the  fruits  which 
he  had  promised  himself  from  it.  He  is  far  more  annoyed 
and  enraged  than  when  harrassed  in  an  existence  which  has 
been  some  time  fixed  and  monotonous,  when  that  which  is 
carried  from  him  has  not  been  the  result  of  his  own  ac- 
tivity, has  not  excited  in  his  bosom  all  the  pleasures  of 
hope.  There  is,  in  the  progressive  movement  toward 
fortune  of  a  man  or  a  population,  a  principle  of  resistance 
against  injustice  and  violence  far  more  energetic  than  in 
any  other  situation. 

This,  then,  was  the  position  of  the  towns  during  the 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  159 

tenth  century;  they  had  more  strength,  more  importance, 
more  riches,  and  more  interests  to  defend.  At  the  same 
time  it  was  more  than  ever  necessary  to  defend  them, 
because  this  strength,  these  interests,  these  riches,  became 
an  object  of  envy  to  the  lords.  The  danger  and  evil  in* 
|creased  with  the  means  of  resisting  them.  Moreover,  tlr 
'feudal  system  gave  to  all  those  who  participated  in  it  thb 
example  of  continued  resistance;  it  never  presented  to  the 
mind  the  idea  of  an  organized  government,  capable  of  rul- 
ing and  quelling  all  by  imposing  its  single  intervention. 
It  offered,  on  the  contrary,  the  continuous  spectacle  of  the 
individual  will  refusing  submission.  Such,  for  the  most 
part,  was  the  position  of  the  possessors  of  fiefs  toward  their 
superiors,  of  the  lesser  lords  toward  the  greater;  so  that  at 
the  moment  when  the  towns  were  tormented  and  oppressed, 
when  they  had  new  and  most  important  interests  to  sus- 
tain, at  that  moment  they  had  before  their  eyes  a  continual 
lesson  of  insurrection.  The  feudal  system  has  rendered 
one  service  to  humanity,  that  of  incessantly  showing  to 
men  the  individual  will  in  the  full  display  of  its  energy. 
The  lesson  prospered:  in  spite  of  their  weakness,  in  spite 
of  the  infinite  inequality  of  condition  between  them  and 
their  lords,  the  towns  arose  in  insurrection  on  all  sides. 

It  is  difficult  to  assign  an  exact  date  to  this  event.  It  is 
generally  said  that  the  enfranchisement  of  the  commons 
commenced  in  the  eleventh  century;  but,  in  all  great 
events,  how  many  unhappy  and  unknown  efforts  occur 
before  the  one  which  succeeds!  In  all  things,  to  accom- 
plish its  designs.  Providence  lavishly  expends  courage, 
virtues,  sacrifices,  in  a  word,  man  himself;  and  it  is  only 
after  an  unknown  number  of  unrecorded  labors,  after  a 
host  of  noble  hearts  have  succumbed  in  discouragement, 
convinced  that  their  cause  is  lost^  it  is  only  then  that  the 
cause  triumphs.  It  doubtless  happened  thus  with  the 
commons.     Doubtless,  in  the  eighth,  ninth  and  tenth  cen- 


160  HISTORY  OF 

turies,  there  were  many  attempts  at  resistance,  and  move- 
ments toward  enfranchisement,  which  not  only  were  un- 
successful, but  of  which  the  memory  remained  alike 
without  glory  or  success.  It  is  true,  however,  that  these 
attempts  have  influenced  posterior  events;  they  reanimated 
and  sustained  the  spirit  of  liberty,  and  prepared  the  way 
for  the  great  insurrection  of  the  eleventh  century. 

I  say  designedly,  insurrection.  The  enfranchisement  of 
the  commons  in  the  eleventh  century  was  the  fruit  of  a 
veritable  insurrection,  and  a  veritable  war,  a  war  declared 
by  the  population  of  the  towns  against  their  lords.  The 
first  fact  which  is  always  met  with  in  such  histories,  is  the 
rising  of  the  burgesses,  who  arm  themselves  with  the  first 
thing  that  comes  to  hand;  the  expulsion  of  the  followers 
of  the  lord  who  have  come  to  put  in  force  some  extortion; 
or  it  is  an  enterprise  against  the  castle;  these  are  always 
the  characteristics  of  the  war.  If  the  insurrection  fails, 
what  is  done  by  the  conqueror?  He  orders  the  destruction 
of  the  fortification  raised  by  the  citizens,  not  only  round 
the  town  but  round  each  house.  One  sees  at  the  time  of 
the  confederation,  after  having  promised  to  act  in  common, 
and  after  taking  the  oath  of  mutual  aid,  the  first  act  of  the 
citizen  is  to  fortify  himself  within  his  house.  Some 
boroughs,  of  which  at  this  day  the  name  is  entirely  obscure, 
as,  for  example,  the  little  borough  of  Vezelay  in  Nivernois, 
maintained  a  very  long  and  energetic  struggle  against  their 
lord.  Victory  fell  to  the  abbot  of  Vezelay;  he  immedi- 
ately enjoined  the  demolition  of  the  fortifications  of  the 
citizen's  houses;  the  names  of  many  are  preserved  whose 
fortified  houses  were  thus  immediately  destroyed, 

Let  us  enter  the  interior  of  the  habitations  of  our  ances- 
tors; let  us  study  the  mode  of  their  construction  and  the 
kind  of  life  which  they  suggest;  all  is  devoted  to  war,  all 
has  the  character  of  war. 

This  is  the  construction  of  a  citizeh^s  house  in  the  twelfth 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  161 

century,  as  far  as  we  can  follow  it  out:  there  were  generally 
three  floors,  with  one  room  upon  each  floor;  the  room  on 
the  ground  floor  was  the  common  room,  where  the  family 
took  their  meals;  the  first  floor  was  very  high  up,  by  way 
of  security ;  this  is  the  most  remarkable  characteristic  of 
the  construction.  On  this  floor  was  the  room  which  the 
citizen  and  his  wife  inhabited.  The  house  was  almost 
always  flanked  by  a  tower  at  the  angle,  generally  of  a 
square  form;  another  symptom  of  war,  a  means  of  defense. 
On  the  second  floor  was  a  room,  the  use  of  which  is  doubt 
ful,  but  which  probably  served  for  the  children,  and  the 
rest  of  the  family.  Above,  very  often,  was  a  small  plat- 
form, evidently  intended  for  a  place  of  observation.  The 
whole  construction  of  the  house  suggests  war.  This  was 
the  evident  character,  the  true  name  of  the  movement 
which  produced  the  enfranchisement  of  the  commons. 

When  war  has  lasted  a  certain  time,  whoever  may  be  the 
belligerent  powers,  it  necessarily  leads  to  peace.  The 
treaties  of  peace  between  the  commons  and  their  adver- 
saries were  the  charters.  The  borough  charters  are 
mere  treaties  of  peace  between  the  burgesses  and  their 
lord. 

The  insurrection  was  general.  When  I  say  general,  I  do 
not  mean  that  there  was  union  or  coalition  between  all  the 
citizens  in  a  country;  far  from  it.  The  situation  of  the 
commons  was  almost  everywhere  the  same;  they  were 
everywhere  a  prey  to  the  same  danger,  afflicted  with  the 
same  evil.  Having  acquired  almost  the  same  means  of 
resistance  and  defense,  they  employed  them  at  nearly  the 
same  epoch.  Example,  too,  may  have  done  something, 
and  the  success  of  one  or  two  boroughs  may  have  been  con- 
tagious. The  charters  seem  sometimes  to  have  been  drawn 
after  the  same  pattern;  that  of  Noyon,  for  example,  served 
as  a  model  for  those  of  Beauvais,  St.  Quentin,  etc.  I  doubt, 
however,  whether  example   had  so  much  influence  as  ha» 


162  HISTORY  OF 

been  supposed.  Communications  were  difficult  and  rare, 
and  hearsay  vague  and  transient;  it  is  more  likely  that  the 
insurrection  was  the  result  of  a  similar  situation,  and  of  a 
general  and  spontaneous  movement.  When  I  say  general, 
I  mean  to  say  that  it  took  place  almost  everywhere;  for,  I 
repeat,  that  the  movement  was  not  unanimous  and  con- 
certed, all  was  special  and  local;  each  borough  was  insur- ; 
gent  against  its  lord  upon  its  own  account;  all  passed  in  its 
own  locality. 

The  vicissitudes  of  the  struggle  were  great.  Not  only 
did  success  alternate,  but  even  when  peace  seemed  estab- 
lished, after  the  charter  had  been  sworn  to  by  each  party, 
it  was  violated  and  eluded  in  every  way.  The  kings  played 
a  great  part  in  the  alternations  of  this  struggle.  Of  this  I 
shall  speak  in  detail  when  I  treat  of  royalty  itself.  Its 
influence  in  the  movement  of  communal  enfranchisement 
has  been  sometimes  praised,  perhaps  too  highly;  some- 
times, I  think,  too  much  undervalued,  and  sometimes 
denied.  I  shall  confine  myself  at  present  to  saying  that  it 
frequently  interfered,  sometimes  invoked  by  the  boroughs 
and  sometimes  by  the  lords;  that  it  has  often  played  con- 
trary parts;  that  it  has  acted  sometimes  on  one  principle, 
sometimes  on  another;  that  it  has  unceasingly  changed  its 
intentions,  detsigns,  and  conduct;  but  that,  upon  the 
whole,  it  has  done  much,  and  with  more  of  good  than  of 
evil  effect. 

Despite  these  vicissitudes,  despite  the  continual  viola- 
tions of  the  charters,  the  enfranchisement  of  the  boroughs 
was  consummated  in  the  twelfth  century.  All  Europe, 
and  especially  France,  which  for  a  century  had  been  cov- 
ered with  insurrections,  was  covered  with  charters  more  or 
less  favorable;  the  corporations  enjoyed  them  with  more  or 
less  security,  but  still  they  enjoyed  them.  The  fact  pre- 
vailed, and  the  right  was  established. 

Let  us  now  attempt  to  discover  the  immediate  results  of 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  163 

this  great  fact,  and  what  changes  it  introduced  into  the 
condition  of  the  burgesses,  in  the  midst  of  society. 

In  the  first  place,  it  changed  nothing,  at  least  not  in  the 
commencement,  in  the  relations  of  the  burgesses  with  the 
general  government  of  the  country — with  what  we  of  the 
present  day  call  the  state;  they  interfered  no  more  in  it 
than  heretofore,  all  remained  local,  inclosed  within  the 
limits  of  the  fief. 

One  circumstance,  however,  should  modify  this  asser- 
tion, a  bond  now  began  to  be  established  between  the  citi- 
zens and  the  king.  At  times  the  burgesses  had  invoked 
the  aid  of  the  king  against  their  lord,  or  his  guarantee, 
when  the  charter  was  promised  or  sworn  to.  At  other 
times,  the  lords  had  invoked  the  judgment  of  the  king 
between  themselves  and  the  citizens.  At  the  demand  of 
either  one  or  other  of  the  parties,  in  a  multitude  of 
different  causes,  royalty  had  interfered  in  the  quarrel; 
from  thence  resulted  a  frequent  relation,  and  some- 
times a  rather  intimate  one,  between  the  burgesses  and  the 
king.  It  was  by  this  relation  that  the  burgesses  ap- 
proached the  center  of  the  state,  and  began  to  have  a 
connection  with  the  general  government. 

Notwithstanding  that  all  remained  local,  a  new  and 
general  class  was  created  by  the  enfranchisement.  No 
coalition  had  existed  between  the  citizens;  they  had,  as  a 
class,  no  common  and  public  existence.  But  the  country 
was  filled  with  men  in  the  same  situation,  having  the  same 
interests  and  the  same  manners,  between  whom  a  certain 
bond  and  unity  could  not  fail  of  being  gradually  established^ 
which  should  give  rise  to  the  bourgeoisie.  The  formation 
of  a  great  social  class,  the  bourgeoisie,  was  the  necessarj 
result  of  the  local  enfranchisement  of  the  burghers. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  this  class  was  at  this  time 
that  which  it  has  since  become.  Not  only  has  its  situation 
changed,  but  its  elements  were  entirely  different:  in  tfai^ 


164  BI8T0HT  OF 

twelfth  century  it  consisted  almost  entirely  of  mercliBnte, 
traders  carrying  on  a  petty  commerce,  and  of  small  pro* 
prietors,  either  of  land  or  houses,  who  had  taken  up  their 
residence  in  the  town.  Three  centuries  after,  the  bour- 
geoisie comprehended,  besides,  advocates,  physicians, 
learned  men  of  all  sorts,  and  all  the  local  magistrates. 
The  bourgeoisie  was  formed  gradually,  and  of  very  different 
elements;  as  a  general  thing,  in  its  history  no  account  is 
given  of  its  succession  or  diversity.  Wherever  the  bour- 
geoisie is  spoken  of,  it  seems  to  be  supposed  that  at  all 
epochs  it  was  composed  of  the  same  elements.  This  is  an 
absurd  supposition.  It  is  perhaps  in  the  diversity  of  its 
composition  at  different  epochs  of  history  that  we  should 
look  for  the  secret  of  its  destiny.  So  long  as  it  did  not 
include  magistrates  nor  men  of  letters,  so  long  as  it  was  not 
what  it  became  in  the  sixteenth  century,  it  possessed  neither 
the  same  importance  nor  the  same  character  in  the  state. 
To  comprehend  the  vicissitudes  of  its  fortune  and  power, 
it  is  necessary  to  observe  in  its  bosom  the  successive  rise  of 
new  professions,  new  moral  positions,  and  a  new  intellectual 
state.  In  the  twelfth  century,  I  repeat,  it  was  composed 
of  only  the  small  merchants,  who  retired  into  the  towns 
after  having  made  their  purchases  and  sales,  and  of  the 
proprietors  of  houses  and  small  domains  who  had  fixed  their 
residence  there.  Here  we  see  the  European  burgher  class 
in  its  first  elements. 

The  third  great  consequence  of  the  enfranchisement  of 
the  commons  was  the  contest  of  classes,  a  contest  which 
constitutes  the  fact  itself,  and  which  fills  modern  history. 
Modern  Europe  was  born  from  the  struggle  of  the  various 
classes  of  society.  Elsewhere,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
this  struggle  led  to  very  different  results:  in  Asia,  for 
example,  one  class  completely  triumphed,  and  the  govern- 
ment of  castes  succeeded  to  that  of  classes,  and  society 
sunk  into  immobility.     Thank  God,  none  of  this  has  hap- 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE,  1 65 

pened  in  Europe.  Neither  of  the  classes  has  been  able  to 
conquer  or  subdue  the  others;  the  struggle,  instead  of 
becoming  a  principle  of  immobility,  has  been  a  cause  of 
progress;  the  relations  of  the  principal  classes  among  them- 
selves, the  necessity  under  which  they  found  themselves  of 
combating  and  yielding  by  turns;  the  variety  of  their  in- 
terests and  passions,  the  desire  to  conquer  without  the 
power  to  satisfy  it;  from  all  this  has  arisen  perhaps  the  most 
energetic  and  fertile  principle  of  the  development  of 
European  civilization.  The  classes  have  incessantly  strug- 
gled; they  detested  each  other;  an  utter  diversity  of  situa- 
tion, of  interests,  and  of  manners,  produced  between  them 
a  profound  moral  hostility:  and  yet  they  have  progressively 
approached  nearer,  come  to  an  understanding,  and  assimi- 
lated; every  European  nation  has  seen  the  birth  and  develop- 
ment in  its  bosom  of  a  certain  universal  spirit,  a  certain 
community  of  interests,  ideas,  and  sentiments,  which  have 
triumphed  over  diversity  and  war.  In  France,  for  example, 
in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  the  social  and 
moral  separation  of  the  classes  was  still  very  profound;  yet 
the  fusion  was  advancing;  still,  without  doubt,  at  that  time 
there  Avas  a  veritable  French  nation,  not  an  exclusive  class, 
but  which  embraced  them  all,  and  in  which  all  were  ani- 
mated by  a  certain  sentiment  in  common,  having  a  common 
social  existence,  strongly  impressed,  in  a  word,  with  nation- 
ality. Thus,  from  the  bosom  of  variety,  enmity  and  wai 
has  arisen  in  modern  Europe  the  national  unity  so  striking 
in  the  present  day,  and  which  tends  to  develop  and  refine 
itself,  from  day  to  day,  with  still  greater  brilliancy. 

Such  are  the  great,  external,  apparent  and  social  effects 
of  the  revolution  which  at  present  occupies  us.  Let  us 
investigate  its  moral  effects,  what  changes  it  brought  about 
in  the  soul  of  the  citizens  themselves,  what  they  became, 
what,  in  fact,  they  necessarily  became  morally  in  their  new 
situation. 


166  EI8T0R1  OP 

There  is  a  fact  by  which  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck 
while  contemplating  the  relation  of  the  burghers  toward 
the  state  in  general,  the  government  of  the  state,  and  the 
general  interests  of  the  country,  not  only  in  the  twelfth 
century,  but  also  in  subsequent  ages;  I  mean  the  prodig- 
ious timidity  of  the  citizens,  their  humility,  the  excessive 
modesty  of  their  pretensions  as  to  the  government  of  the 
country,  and  the  facility  with  which  they  contented  them- 
selves. Nothing  is  seen  among  them  of  the  true  political 
spirit  which  aspires  to  influence,  reform  and  govern;  noth^ 
ing  which  gives  proof  of  boldness  of  thought  or  grandeur 
of  ambition;  one  might  call  sensible-minded,  honest,  freed 
men. 

There  are  but  two  sources  in  the  sphere  of  politics  from 
which  greatness  of  ambition  or  firmness  of  thought  can 
arise.  It  is  necessary  to  have  either  the  feeling  of  immense 
importance,  of  great  power  exercised  upon  the  destiny  ol 
others,  and  in  a  vast  extent — or  else  it  is  necessary  to  bear 
within  one's  self  a  feeling  of  complete  individual  independ- 
ence, a  confidence  in  one's  own  liberty,  a  conviction  of  a 
destiny  foreign  to  all  will  but  that  of  the  man  himself. 
To  one  or  other  of  these  two  conditions  seem  to  belong 
boldness  of  thought,  greatness  of  ambition,  the  desire 
of  acting  in  an  enlarged  sphere,  and  of  obtaining  great 
results. 

Neither  one  nor  the  other  of  these  conditions  entered 
into  the  condition  of  the  burghers  of  the  middle  ages. 
These,  as  you  have  just  seen,  were  only  important  to  them- 
selves; they  exercised  no  sensible  influence  beyond  their 
own  town,  or  upon  the  state  in  general.  Nor  could  they 
have  any  great  sentiment  of  individual  independence.  It 
was  in  vain  that  they  conquered,  in  vain  that  they  obtained 
a  charter.  The  citizen  of  a  town,  in  comparing  himself 
with  the  inferior  lord  who  dwelt  near  him,  and  who  had 
just  been  conquered,  was  not  the  less  sensible  of  his  ex- 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  167 

treme  inferiority;  he  has  not  filled  with  the  naughty  senti- 
ment of  independence  which  animated  the  proprietor  of 
the  fief;  he  held  not  his  portion  of  liberty  from  himself 
alone,  but  from  his  association  with  others;  a  difficult  and 
precarious  succor.  Hence  that  character  of  reserve,  of 
timidity  of  spirit,  of  retiring  modesty  and  humility  of 
language,  even  in  conjunction  with  a  firmness  of  conduct, 
which  is  so  deeply  imprinted  in  the  life  of  the  citizens,  not 
only  in  the  twelfth  century,  but  even  of  their  descendants. 
They  had  no  taste  for  great  enterprises,  and  when  fate 
forced  them  among  them,  they  were  uneasy  and  embar- 
rassed; the  responsibility  annoyed  them;  they  felt  that 
they  were  out  of  their  sphere  of  action,  and  wished  to 
return  to  it;  they  therefore  treated  on  moderate  terms. 
Thus  one  finds  in  the  course  of  European  history,  especially 
of  France,  that  the  bourgeoisie  has  been  esteemed,  con- 
sidered, flattered,  and  even  respected,  but  rarely  feared;  it 
has  rarely  produced  upon  its  adversaries  an  impression  of  a 
great  and  haughty  power,  of  a  truly  political  power.  There 
.is  nothing  to  be  surprised  at  in  this  weakness  of  the  modern 
bourgeoisie;  its  principal  cause  lay  in  its  very  origin,  and 
in  the  circumstances  of  its  enfranchisement,  which  I  have 
just  placed  before  you.  A  high  ambition,  independently 
of  social  conditions,  enlargement  and  firmness  of  political 
thought,  the  desire  to  participate  in  the  affairs  of  the 
country,  the  full  consciousness  of  the  greatness  of  man  as 
man,  and  of  the  power  which  belongs  to  him,  if  he  is 
capable  of  exercising  it,  these  are  in  Europe  sentiments 
and  dispositions  entirely  modern,  the  fruit  of  modern 
civilization,  the  fruit  of  that  glorious  and  powerful  univer- 
sality which  characterizes  it,  and  which  cannot  fail  oi 
insuring  to  the  public  an  influence  and  weight  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  country,  which  were  always  wanting,  and 
necessarily  so,  to  the  burghers  our  ancestors. 

On  the  other  hand,  they  acquired  and  displayed,  in  the 


168  HISTORY  OF 

struggle  of  local  interests  which  they  had  to  maintain  in 
their  narrow  stage,  a  degree  of  energy,  devotedness,  perse* 
verance  and  patience,  which  has  never  been  surpassed. 
The  difficulty  of  the  enterprise  was  such,  and  such  the 
perils  which  they  had  to  strive  against,  that  a  display  of 
unexampled  courage  was  necessary.  In  the  present  day,  a 
very  false  idea  is  formed  of  the  life  of  the  burghers  in  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries.  You  have  read  in  one 
of  the  novels  of  Walter  Scott,  Quentin  Durivard,  the  rep- 
resentation he  has  given  of  the  burgomaster  of  Liege;  he 
has  made  of  him  a  regular  burgher  in  a  comedy,  fat,  indo- 
lent, without  experience  or  boldness,  and  wholly  occupied 
in  passing  his  life  easily.  Whereas,  the  burghers  of  this 
period  always  had  a  coat  of  mail  upon  their  breast,  a  pike 
in  their  hand;  their  life  was  as  tempestuous,  as  warlike 
and  as  hardy  as  that  of  the  lords  with  whom  they  fought. 
It  was  in  these  continual  perils,  in  struggling  against  all 
the  difficulties  of  practical  life,  that  they  acquired  that 
manly  character  and  that  obstinate  energy  which  is,  in  a 
measure,  lost  in  the  soft  activity  of  modern  times. 

None  of  these  social  or  moral  efforts  of  the  enfranchise- 
ment of  the  boroughs  had  attained  their  development  in 
the  twelfth  century;  it  is  in  the  following  centuries  that 
they  distinctly  appeared,  and  are  easily  discernible.  It  is 
certain,  however,  that  the  germ  was  laid  in  the  original 
situation  of  the  boroughs,  in  the  manner  of  their  enfran- 
chisement, and  the  place  then  taken  by  the  burghers  in 
society.  I  was,  therefore,  right  in  placing  them  before  you 
alone.  Let  us  now  investigate  the  interior  of  the  borough 
of  the  twelfth  century;  let  us  see  how  it  was  governed, 
what  principles  and  facts  dominated  in  the  relations  of  the 
citizens  among  themselves. 

You  will  recollect  that  in  speaking  of  the  municipal 
system,  bequeathed  by  the  Roman  Empire  to  the  modern 
world,  I  told  you  that  the   Roman  Empire   was  a  great 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  169 

coalition  of  municipalities,  formerly  sovereign  municipal- 
ities like  Rome  itself.  Each  of  these  towns  had  originally 
possessed  the  same  existence  as  Rome,  had  once  been  a 
small  independent  republic,  making  peace  and  war,  and 
governing  itself  as  it  thought  proper.  In  proportion  as 
they  became  incorporated  with  the  Roman  Empire,  the 
rights  which  constitute  sovereignty,  the  right  of  peace  and 
war,  the  right  of  legislation,  the  right  of  taxation,  etc.,  left 
each  town  and  centered  in  Rome.  There  remained  but 
one  sovereign  municipality,  Rome,  reigning  over  a  large 
number  of  municipalities  which  had  now  only  a  civil  exist- 
ence. The  municipal  system  changed  its  character;  and 
instead  of  being  a  political  government  and  a  system  of 
sovereignty,  it  became  a  mode  of  administration. 

This  was  the  great  revolution  which  was  consummated 
under  the  Roman  Empire.  The  municinal  system  became 
a  mode  of  administration,  was  reduced  to  the  government 
of  local  affairs  and  the  civic  interests  of  the  city.  This 
was  the  condition  in  which  the  towns  and  their  institutions 
were  left  at  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  In  the  midst 
of  the  chaos  and  barbarism,  all  ideas,  as  well  as  facts,  were 
in  utter  confusion;  all  the  attributes  of  sovereignty  and  of 
the  administration  were  confounded.  These  distinctions 
were  no  longer  attended  to.  Affairs  were  abandoned  to 
the  course  of  necessity.  There  was  a  sovereign,  or  an 
administrator,  in  each  locality,  according  to  circumstances. 
When  the  towns  rose  in  insurrection  to  recover  some 
security,  they  took  upon  themselves  the  sovereignty.  It 
was  not  in  any  way  for  the  purpose  of  following  out  a 
political  theory,  nor  from  a  feeling  of  their  dignity;  it  was 
that  they  might  have  the  means  of  resisting  the  lords 
against  whom  they  rebelled  that  they  appropriated  to  them- 
selves the  right  of  levying  militia,  of  taxations  for  tlie  pur- 
poses of  war,  of  themselves  nominating  their  chiefs  and 
magistrates;   in  a   word,   of  governing  themselves.     The 


170  HISTORY  OF 

government  in  the  interior  of  the  towns  was  the  means  oi 
defense  and  security.  Thus  sovereignty  re-entered  the 
municipal  system,  from  which  it  had  been  eradicated  by 
the  conquests  of  Rome.  The  boroughs  again  became  sov- 
ereign. We  have  here  the  political  character  of  their 
enfranchisement. 

It  does  not  follow  that  this  sovereignty  was  complete. 
It  always  retained  some  trace  of  external  sovereignty: 
sometimes  the  lord  preserved  to  himself  the  right  of  send- 
ing a  magistrate  into  the  town,  who  took  for  his  assessors 
the  municipal  magistrates;  sometimes  he  possessed  the 
right  of  receiving  certain  revenues;  elsewhere,  a  tribute 
was  secured  to  him.  Sometimes  the  external  sovereignty 
of  the  community  lay  in  the  hands  of  the  king. 

The  boroughs  themselves  having  entered  within  the 
frame  of  feudalism  had  vassals,  became  suzerains,  and  by 
virtue  of  this  title  parj:ly  possessed  themselves  of  the  sov- 
ereignty which  was  inherent  in  the  lord  paramount. 
This  caused  a  confusion  between  the  rights  which  they  had 
from  their  feudal  position,  and  those  which  they  had  con- 
•quered  by  their  ihsurrections;  and  under  this  double  title 
the  sovereignty  belonged  to  them. 

Thus  we  see,  as  far  as  can  be  judged  from  very  deficient 
monuments,  how  government  was  administered,  at  least  in 
the  early  ages  in  the  interior  of  a  borough.  The  totality 
of  the  inhabitants  formed  the  assembly  of  the  borough;  all 
those  who  had  sworn  the  borough  oath  (and  whoever  lived 
within  the  walls  was  obliged  to  do  so)  were  convoked  by 
the  ringing  of  a  bell  to  the  general  assembly.  It  was  there 
that  they  nominated  the  magistrates.  The  number  and 
form  of  the  magistracy  were  very  various.  The  magis- 
trates being  once  nominated,  the  assembly  was  dissolved, 
and  the  magistrates  governed  almost  alone,  somewhat 
arbitrarily,  and  without  any  other  responsibility  than  that 
of  the  new  elections  or  popular  riots,  which  were  the  chief 
mode  of  responsibilitv  in  those  times. 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  171 

You  see  that  the  internal  organization  of  boroughs  reduced 
itself  to  two  very  simple  elements;  the  general  assembly 
of  the  inhabitants,  and  a  government  invested  with  an 
almost  arbitrary  power,  under  the  responsibility  of  insur- 
rections and  riots.  It  was  impossible,  principally  from  the 
state  of  manners,  to  establish  a  regular  government,  with 
veritable  guarantees  for  order  and  duration.  The  greater 
portion  of  the  population  of  the  boroughs  was  in  a  state  of 
ignorance,  brutality  and  ferocity,  which  it  would  have 
been  very  difficult  to  govern.  After  a  short  time,  there  was 
almost  as  little  security  in  the  interior  of  the  borough  as 
there  had  formed v  been   in   the  relations   between   the 

ft/ 

burgher  and  the  lord.  There  was  formed,  however,  very 
quickly  a  superior  bourgeoisie.  You  easily  comprehend 
the  causes.  The  state  of  ideas  and  of  social  relations  led 
to  the  establishment  of  industrial  professions,  legally  con- 
stituted corporations.  The  system  of  privilege  was  intro- 
duced into  the  interior  of  boroughs,  and  from  this  a  great 
inequality  ensued.  There  was  shortly  everywhere  a  cer- 
tain number  of  rich  and  important  burghers,  and  a  work- 
ing population  more  or  less  numerous,  which,  in  spite  of 
its  inferiority,  had  an  important  influence  in  the  affairs- 
of  the  borough.  The  boroughs  were  then  divided  into  a 
high  bourgeoisie  and  a  population  subject  to  all  the  errors, 
and  vices  of  a  populace.  The  superior  bourgeoisie  found 
itself  pressed  between  the  immense  difficulty  of  governing 
the  inferior  population,  and  the  incessant  attempts  of  the 
ancient  master  of  the  borough,  who  sought  to  re-establish 
his  power.  Such  was  its  situation,  not  only  in  France  but 
in  all  Europe,  down  to  the  sixteenth  century.  This  per- 
haps has  been  the  chief  means  of  preventing  the  corpora- 
tions, in  most  European  nations,  and  especially  in  France, 
from  possessing  all  the  important  politi'cal  influence  which 
they  might  otherwise  have  had.  Two  principles  carried 
on  incessant  warfare  within  them;  in  the  inferior  popula- 


172  HISTORY  Oh' 

tion,  a  blind,  unbridled  and  ferocious  spirit  of  democracy; 
and  as  a  consequence,  in  the  superio  •  population,  a  spirit 
of  timidity  at  making  agreements,  an  excessive  facility  of 
conciliation,  whether  in  regard  to  the  king,  the  ancient 
lords,  or  in  re-establishing  some  peace  and  order  in  the  in- 
terior of  the  borough.  Each  of  these  principles  could  not 
but  tend  to  deprive  the  corporation  of  any  great  influence 
in  the  state. 

All  these  effects  were  not  visible  in  the  twelfth  century; 
still,  however,  one  might  foresee  them  in  the  very  character 
of  the  insurrection,  in  the  manner  of  its  commencement, 
and  in  the  condition  of  the  various  elements  of  the  com- 
munal population. 

Such,  if  I  mistake  not,  are  the  principal  characteristics 
and  the  general  results  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the  bor- 
oughs and  of  their  internal  government.  I  forewarn  you 
that  these  facts  were  neither  so  uniform  nor  so  universal 
as  1  have  broadly  represented  them.  There  is  great  diver- 
sity in  the  history  oi  boroughs  in  Europe.  For  example, 
in  Italy  and  in  the  south  of  France,  the  Roman  munici- 
pal system  dominated;  there  was  not  nearly  so  much  diver- 
sity and  inequality  here  as  in  the  north,  and  the  communal 
organization  was  much  better,  either  by  reason  of  the 
Roman  traditions,  or  from  the  superior  condition  of  the 
population.  In  the  north  the  feudal  system  prevailed  in 
the  communal  existence;  there,  all  was  subordinate  to  the 
struggle  against  the  lords.  The  boroughs  of  the  south 
were  more  occupied  with  their  internal  organization,  ame- 
lioration and  progress;  they  thought  only  of  becoming 
independent  republics.  The  destiny  of  the  northern  bor- 
oughs, in  France  particularly,  showed  themselves  more 
and  more  incomplete  and  destined  for  less  fine  develop- 
ments. If  we  glance  at  the  boroughs  of  Germany,  Spain 
and  England,  we  shall  find  in  them  other  differences.  I 
shall  not  enter  into  these  details;  we  shall  remark  some  of 


.     CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  17^ 

them  as  we  advance  in  the  history  of  civilization.  In  their 
origin,  all  things  are  nearly  confounded  under  one  phys- 
iognomy; it  is  only  by  successive  developments  that  variety 
shows  itself.  Then  commences  a  new  development  which 
urges  society  toward  free  and  high  unity,  the  glorious  end 
of  all  the  efforts  and  wishes  of  the  human  race. 


174  BISTORT  Olf 


EIGHTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Glance  at  the  general  history  of  European  civ- 
ilization— Its  distinctive  and  fundamental  character — Epoch  at 
which  that  character  began  to  appear — State  of  Europe  from  the 
twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century — Character  of  the  crusades — 
Their  moral  and  social  causes — These  causes  no  longer  existed  at 
the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century — Effects  of  the  crusades  upon 
civilization. 

I  HAVE  not  as  yet  explained  to  you  the  complete  plan  of 
my  course.  I  commenced  by  indicating  its  object;  I  then 
passed  in  review  European  civilization  without  considering  it 
as  a  whole,  without  indicating  to  you  at  one  and  the  same 
time  the  point  of  departure,  the  route,  and  the  port,  the 
commencement,  the  middle  and  the  end.  We  have  now, 
however,  arrived  at  an  epoch  when  this  entire  view,  this 
general  sketch  of  the  region  which  we  survey,  has  become 
necessary.  The  times  which  have  hitherto  occupied  us  in 
some  measure  explain  themselves,  or  are  explained  by  im- 
mediate and  evident  results.  Those  upon  which  we  are 
about  to  enter  would  not  be  understood,  nor  even  would 
they  excite  any  lively  interest,  unless  they  are  connected 
with  even  the  most  indirect  and  distant  of  their  conse- 
quences. 

In  so  extensive  a  study,  moments  occur  when  we  can  no 
longer  consent  to  proceed  while  all  before  us  is  unknown 
and  dark.  We  wish  not  only  to  know  whence  we  have 
come  and  where  we  are,  but  also  to  what  point  we  tend. 
This  is  what  we  now  feel.  The  epoch  to  which  we  are 
approaching  is  not  intelligible^,  nor  can  its  importance  be 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  175 

appreciated  except  by  the  relations  which  unite  it  to 
modern  times.  Its  true  meaning  is  not  evident  until  a  later 
-oeriod. 

We  are  in  possession  of  almost  all  the  essential  elements 
of  European  civilization.  I  say  almost,  because  as  yet  I 
have  not  spoken  to  you  of  royalty.  The  decisive  crisis  of 
the  development  of  royalty  did  not  take  place  until  the 
twelfth  or  even  thirteenth  century.  It  was  not  until  then 
that  the  institution  was  really  constituted,  and  that  it 
began  to  occupy  a  definite  place  in  modern  society.  I 
have,  therefore,  not  treated  of  it  earlier;  it  will  form  the 
subject  of  my  next  lecture.  With  this  exception,  I  repeat, 
we  have  before  us  all  the  great  elements  of  European  civili- 
sation. You  have  beheld  the  birth  of  feudal  aristocracy, 
of  the  church,  the  boroughs;  you  have  seen  the  institu- 
tions which  should  correspond  to  these  facts;  and  not  only 
the  institutions,  but  also  the  principles  and  ideas  which 
these  facts  should  raise  up  in  the  mind.  Thus,  while 
treating  of  feudalism,  you  were  present  at  the  cradle  of  the 
modern  family,  at  the  hearth  of  domestic  life;  you  have 
comprehended,  in  all  its  energy,  the  sentiment  of  individ- 
ual independence,  and  the  place  which  it  has  held  in  our 
civilization.  With  regard  to  the  church,  you  have  seen  the 
purely  religious  society  rise  up,  its  relations  with  the  civil 
society,  the  theocratical  principle,  the  separation  of  the 
spiritual  and  temporal  powers,  the  first  blows  of  persecu- 
tions, and  the  first  cries  of  the  liberty  of  conscience.  The 
rising  boroughs  have  shown  you  glimpses  of  an  association 
founded  upon  altogether  other  principles  than  those  of 
feudalism  and  the  church,  the  diversity  of  the  social 
classes,  their  struggles,  the  first  and  profound  characteris- 
tics of  modern  burgher  manners,  timidity  of  spirit  side  by 
side  with  energy  of  soul,  the  demagogue  spirit  side  by  side 
with  the  legal  spirit.  In  a  word,  all  the  elements  which 
have  contributed  to  the  formation  of  European  society,  all 


176  HISTORY  OF 

that  it  has  been,  and,  so  to  speak,  all  that  it  has  suggested^ 
have  already  met  your  view. 

Let  us  now  transport  ourselves  to  the  heart  of  modern 
Europe.  I  speak  not  of  existing  Europe,  after  the  pro- 
digious metamorphoses  which  we  have  witnessed,  but  of 
Europe  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries.  I  ask 
you,  do  you  recognize  the  society  which  we  have  just  seen 
in  the  twelfth  century?  What  a  wonderful  difference!  I 
have  already  dwelt  upon  this  difference  as  regards  the 
boroughs.  I  afterward  tried  to  make  you  sensible  of  how 
little  the  third  estate  of  the  eighteenth  century  resembled 
that  of  the  twelfth.  If  we  make  the  same  essay  upon 
feudalism  and  the  church,  we  shall  be  struck  with  the 
same  metamorphosis.  There  was  no  more  resemblance  be- 
tween the  nobility  of  the  court  of  Louis  XV  and  the 
feudal  aristocracy,  or  between  the  church  of  Cardinal  de 
Beruis  and  that  of  the  Abbot  Suger,  than  between  the 
third  estate  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  the  bourgeoisie 
of  the  twelfth  century.  Between  these  two  epochs, 
although  already  in  possession  of  all  its  elements,  society 
was  entirely  transformed. 

I  wish  to  establish  clearly  the  general  and  essential  char- 
acter of  this  transformation.  From  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth 
century  society  contained  all  that  I  have  described.  It 
possessed  kings,  a  lay  aristocracy,  a  clergy,  burghers,  labor- 
ers, religious  and  civil  powers — in  a  word,  the  germs  oi 
everything  which  is  necessary  to  form  a  nation  and  a  gov- 
ernment, and  yet  there  was  neither  government  nor  nation. 
Throughout  the  epoch  upon  which  we  are  occupied  there 
was  nothing  bearing  a  resemblance  to  a  people,  properly  so 
called,  nor  to  a  veritable  government,  in  the  sense  which 
the  words  have  for  us  in  the  present  day.  We  have  encoun- 
tered a  multitude  of  particular  forces,  of  special  facts,  and 
local  institutions;  bftt  nothing  general  or  public;  no  policy, 
properly  so  called,  nor  no  true  nationality. 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  i  77 

Let  us  regard,  on  the  contrary,  the  Europe  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries;  we  shall  everywhere  see 
two  leading  figures  present  themselves  upon  the  scene  of 
the  world,  the  government  and  the  people.  The  action  of 
a  universal  power  upon  the  whole  country,  and  the  influ- 
ence of  the  country  upon  the  power  which  governs  it,  this 
is  society,  this  is  history:  the  relations  of  the  two  great 
forces,  their  alliance  or  their  struggle,  this  is  what  history 
discovers  and  relates.  The  nobility,  the  clergy  and  the 
burghers,  all  these  particular  classes  and  forces,  now  only 
appear  in  a  secondary  rank,  almost  like  shadows  effaced  by 
those  two  great  bodies,  the  people  and  its  government. 

This,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  the  essential  feature  which  dis- 
tinguishes modern  from  primitive  Europe;  this  is  the  met- 
amorphosis which  was  accomplished  from  the  thirteenth  to 
the  sixteenth  centuries. 

It  is  then  from  the  thirteenth  to  the  sixteenth  century, 
that  is  to  say,  in  the  period  which  we  are  about  to  enter 
upon,  that  the  secret  of  this  must  be  sought  for;  it  is  the 
distinctive  character  of  this  epoch  that  it  was  employed  in 
converting  primitive  Europe  into  modern  Europe;  and 
hence  its  historical  importance  and  interest.  If  it  is  not 
considered  from  this  point  of  view,  and  unless  we  every- 
where seek  what  has  arisen  from  it,  not  only  will  it  not  be 
understood,  but  we  shall  soon  be  weary  of  and  annoyed  by 
it.  Indeed,  viewed  in  itself,  and  apart  from  its  results,  it 
is  a  period  without  character,  a  period  when  confusion  con- 
tinues to  increase,  without  o\ir  being  able  to  discover  its 
causes,  a  period  of  movement  without  direction,  and  of 
agitation  without  result.  Royalty,  nobility,  clergy,  bour- 
geoisie, all  the  elements  of  social  order  seem  to  turn  in  the 
same  circle,  equally  incapable  of  progress  or  repose.  They 
make  attempts  of  all  kinds,  but  all  fail;  they  attempt  to 
settle  governments  and  to  establish  public  liberties;  they 
even  attempt  religious  reforms,  but  nothing  is  accomplished 


178  HISTORY  OF 

.-nothing  perfected.  If  ever  the  human  race  has  been 
abandoned  to  a  destiny,  agitated  and  yet  stationary,  to 
labor  incessant,  yet  barren  of  effect,  it  was  between  the 
thirteenth  and  the  fifteenth  centuries  that  such  was  the 
pliysiognomy  of  its  condition  and  its  history. 

I  know  of  but  one  work  in  which  this  physiognomy  is 
truly  shown,  the  Histoire  des  dues  de  Burgogne,  by  M.  de 
Barante.  I  do  not  speak  of  the  truth  which  sparkles  in 
the  descriptions  of  manners,  or  in  the  detailed  recital  of 
facts,  but  of  that  universal  truth  which  makes  the  entire 
book  a  faithful  image,  a  sincere  mirror  of  the  whole  epoch, 
of  which  it  at  the  same  time  shows  the  movement  and  the 
monotony. 

Considered,  on  the  contrary,  in  its  relation  to  that  which 
follows,  as  the  transition  from  the  primitive  to  the  modern 
Europe,  this  epoch  brightens  and  becomes  animated;  we 
discover  in  it  a  totality,  a  direction  and  a  progress;  its  unity 
and  interest .  consist  in  the  slow  and  secret  work  which  is 
accomplished  in  it. 

The  history  of  European  civilization  may  then  be  summed 
up  into  three  grand  periods:  First,  a  period  which  I  shall 
call  the  period  of  origins,  of  formation — a  time  when  the 
various  elements  of  our  society  freed  themselves  from  the 
chaos,  took  being,  and  showed  themselves  under  their 
native  forms  with  the  principles  which  animated  them. 
This  period  extended  nearly  to  the  twelfth  century.  Sec- 
ond, the  second  period  is  a  time  of  essay,  of  trial, 
of  groping;  the  various  elements  of  the  social  order 
drew  near  each  other,  combined,  and,  as  it  were,  felt  each 
other,  without  the  power  to  bring  forth  anything  general, 
regular,  or  durable.  This  state  was  not  ended,  properly 
speaking,  till  the  sixteenth  century.  Third,  the  period  of 
development,  properly  so  called,  when  society  in  Europe 
took  a  definite  form,  followed  a  determined  tendency,  and 
progressed  rapidly  and  universally  toward  a  clear  and  pre- 


VIVILIZA  TIGN  IN  EUROPE.  179 

cise  end.     This  commenced  at  the  sixteenth  cenlury,  and 
now  pursues  its  course. 

Such  appears  to  me  to  be  the  spectacle  of  European 
civilization  in  its  whole,  and  such  I  shall  endeavor  to  rep- 
resent it  to  you.  It  is  the  second  period  that  we  enter  upon 
'low.  We  have  to  seek  in  it  the  great  crises  and  deter- 
minative causes  of  the  social  transformation  which  has 
been  the  result  of  it. 

The  crusades  constitute  the  first  great  event  which  pre- 
sents itself  to  us,  which,  as  it  were,  opens  the  epoch  of 
which  we  speak.  They  commenced  at  the  eleventh  century, 
and  extended  over  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth.  Of  a  surety, 
a  great  event;  for  since  it  was  completed  it  has  not  ceased 
to  occupy  philosophic  historians;  even  before  reading  the 
account  of  it,  all  have  foreseen  that  it  was  one  of  those 
events  which  change  the  condition  of  the  people,  and 
which  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  study  in  order  to  com- 
prehend the  general  course  of  facts. 

The  first  characteristic  of  the  crusades  is  their  univer- 
sality; the  whole  of  Europe  joined  in  them — they  were  the 
first  European  event.  Previously  to  the  crusades,  Europe 
had  never  been  excited  by  one  sentiment,  or  acted  in  one 
cause;  there  was  no  Europe.  The  crusades  revealed 
Christian  Europe.  The  French  formed  the  vans  of  the 
first  army  of  crusaders;  but  there  were  also  Germans, 
Italians,  Spaniards,  and  English.  Observe  the  second, 
the  third  crusade;  all  the  Christian  nations  engaged  in  it. 
Nothing  like  it  had  yet  been  seen. 

This  is  not  all:  just  as  the  crusades  form  an  European 
event,  so  in  each  country  do  they  form  a  national  event. 
All  classes  of  society  were  animated  with  the  same  impres- 
sion, obeyed  the  same  idea,  abandoned  themselves  to  the 
same  impulse.  Kings,  lords,  priests,  burghers,  country-^ 
men,  all  took  the  same  part,  the  same  interest  in  the  cru- 
sades. The  moral  unity  of  nations  was  shown — a  fact  as 
novel  as  the  European  unity. 


180  HISTORY  OF 

When  such  events  happen  in  the  infancy  of  a  people,  at 
a  time  when  men  act  freely  and  spontaneously,  without 
premeditation,  without  political  intention  or  combination, 
one  recognizes  therein  what  history  calls  heroic  events 
— the  heroic  age  of  nations.  In  fact,  the  crusades  consti- 
tute the  heroic  event  of  modern  Europe — a  movement  at 
once  individual  and  general,  national,  and  yet  unregulated. 

That  such  was  really  their  primitive  character  is  verified 
by  all  documents,  proved  by  all  facts.  Who  were  the  first 
crusaders  that  put  themselves  in  motion?  Crowds  of  the 
populace,  who  set  out  under  the  guidance  of  Peter  the 
Hermit,  without  preparation,  without  guides,  and  without 
chiefs,  followed  rather  than  guided  by  a  few  obscure 
knights;  they  traversed  Germany,  the  Greek  empire,  and 
dispersed  or  perished  in  Asia  Minor. 

The  superior  class,  the  feudal  nobility,  in  their  turn  be- 
came eager  in  the  cause  of  the  crusade.  Under  the  com- 
mand of  Godefroi  de  Bouillon,  the  lords  and  their  follow- 
ers set  out  full  of  ardor.  When  they  had  traversed  Asia 
Minor,  a  fit  of  indifference  and  weariness  seized  the  chiefs 
of  the  crusaders.  They  cared  not  to  continue  their  route; 
they  united  to  make  conquests  and  establish  themselves. 
The  common  people  of  the  army  rebelled;  they  wished  to 
go  to  Jerusalem — the  deliverance  of  Jerusalem  was  the  aim 
of  the  crusade;  it  was  not  to  gain  principalities  for  Eaimond 
de  Toulouse,  nor  for  Bohemond,  nor  for  any  other,  that 
the  crusaders  came.  The  popular,  national  and  European 
impulsion  was  superior  to  all  individual  wishes;  the  chiefs 
had  not  sufficient  ascendancy  over  the  masses  to  subdue 
them  to  their  interests.  The  sovereigns,  who  had  remained 
strangers  to  the  first  crusade,  were  at  last  carried  away  by 
the  movement,  like  the  people.  The  great  crusades  of  the 
twelfth  century  were  commanded  by  kings. 

I  pass  at  once  to  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
People  etill  spoke  in  Europe  of  the  crusades,  they  even 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  181 

preached  them  with  ardor.  The  popes  excited  the  sover- 
eigns and  the  people — they  held  councils  in  recommenda- 
tion of  the  Holy  Land;  but  no  one  went  there — it  was  no 
longer  cared  for.  Something  had  passed  into  the  European 
spirit  and  European  society  that  put  an  end  to  the  cru- 
sades. There  were  still  some  private  expeditions.  A  few 
lords,  a  few  bands,  still  set  out  for  Jerusalem;  but  the 
general  movement  was  evidently  stopped;  and  yet  it  does 
not  appear  that  either  the  necessity  or  the  facility  of  con- 
tinuing it  had  disappeared.  The  Moslems  triumphed  more 
and  more  in  Asia.  The  Christian  kingdom  founded  at 
Jerusalem  had  fallen  into  their  hands.  It  was  necessary 
to  reconquer  it;  there  were  greater  means  of  success  than 
they  had  at  the  commencement  of  the  crusades;  a  large 
number  of  Christians  were  established,  and  still  powerful, 
in  Asia  Minor,  Syria  and  Palestine.  They  were  better 
acquainted  with  the  means  of  traveling  and  acting.  Still 
nothing  could  revive  the  crusades.  It  was  clear  that  the 
two  great  forces  of  society — the  sovereigns  on  one  side  and 
the  people  on  the  other — were  averse  to  it. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  this  was  lassitude — that 
Europe  was  tired  of  thus  falling  upon  Asia.  We  must 
come  to  an  understanding  upon  this  word  lassitude,  which 
is  so  often  used  upon  similar  occasions;  it  is  strangely  inex- 
act. It  is  not  possible  that  human  generations  can  be 
weary  with  what  they  have  never  taken  part  in;  weary  of 
the  fatigues  undergone  by  their  forefathers.  Weariness  is 
personal,  it  cannot  be  transmitted  like  a  heritage.  Men 
in  the  thirteenth  century  were  not  fatigued  by  the  crusades 
of  the  twelfth,  they  were  influenced  by  another  cause.  A 
great  change  had  taken  place  in  ideas,  sentiments,  and 
social  conditions.  There  were  no  longer  the  same  wants 
and  desires.  They  no  longer  thought  or  wished  the  same 
things.  It  is  these  political  or  moral  metamorphoses,  and 
not  weariness,  which  explain  the  different  conduct  of  suc- 


132  HISTORY  OF 

cessive  generations.  The  pretended  lassitude  which  is 
attributed  to  them  is  a  false  metaphor. 

Two  great  causes,  one  moral  and  the  other  social,  threw 
Europe  into  the  crusades.  The  moral  cause,  as  you  know, 
was  the  impulsion  of  religious  sentiment  and  creeds.  Since 
the  end  of  the  seventh  century,  Christianity  had  been 
struggling  against  Mahommedanism;  it  had  conquered  it 
in  Europe  after  being  dangerously  menaced;  it  had  succeeded 
in  confining  it  to  Spain.  Thence  also  it  still  constantly 
strove  to  expel  it.  The  crusades  have  been  represented  as 
a  kind  of  accident,  as  an  event  unforeseen,  unheard  of, 
born  solely  of  the  recitals  of  pilgrims  on  their  return  from 
Jerusalem,  and  of  the  preachings  of  Peter  the  Hermit.  It 
was  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  crusades  were  the  continua- 
tion, the  zenith  of  the  grand  struggle  which  had  been  going 
on  for  four  centuries  between  Christianity  and  Mahom- 
medanism. The  theater  of  this  struggle  had  been  hitherto 
in  Europe;  it  was  now  transported  into  Asia.  If  I  put  any 
value  upon  those  comparisons  and  parallels,  into  which 
some  people  delight  at  times  to  press,  suitably  or  not,  his- 
torical facts,  I  might  show  you  Christianity  running  pre- 
cisely the  same  career  in  Asia,  and  undergoing  the  same 
destiny  as  Mahommedanism  in  Europe.  Mahommedanism 
was  established  in  Spain,  and  had  there  conquered  and 
founded  a  kingdom  and  principalities.  The  Christians  did  the 
same  in  Asia.  They  there  found  themselves  with  regard  to 
Mahommedans  in  the  same  situation  as  the  latter  in  Spain 
with  regard  to  the  Christians.  The  kingdom  of  Jerusalem 
and  the  kingdom  of  Grenada  correspond  to  each  other. 
But  these  similitudes  are  of  little  importance.  The  great 
fact  is  the  struggle  of  the  two  social  and  religious  systems; 
and  of  this  the  crusades  was  the  chief  crisis.  In  that  lies 
their  historical  character,  the  connecting  link  which 
attaches  them  to  the  totality  of  facts. 

There  was  another  cause,  the  social  state  of  Europe  in 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE,  183 

the  eleventh  century,  which  no  less  contributed  to  their 
outburst.  I  have  been  careful  to  explain  why,  between  the 
fifth  and  the  eleventh  century,  nothing  general  could  be 
established  in  Europe.  I  have  attempted  to  show  how 
every  thing  had  become  local,  how  states,  existences, 
minds,  were  confined  within  a  very  limited  horizon.  It 
was  thus  feudalism  had  prevailed.  After  some  time  an 
horizon  so  restricted  did  not  suffice;  human  thought  and 
activity  desired  to  pass  beyond  the  circle  in  which  they  had 
been  confined.  The  wandering  life  had  ceased,  but  not 
the  inclination  for  its  excitement  and  adventures.  The 
people  rushed  into  the  crusades  as  into  a  new  existence, 
more  enlarged  and  varied,  which  at  one  time  recalled  the 
ancient  liberty  of  barbarism  as  others  opened  out  the  per- 
spective of  a  vast  future. 

Such,  I  believe,  were  the  two  determining  causes  of 
the  crusades  of  the  twelfth  century.  At  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century  neither  of  these  causes  existed.  Men 
and  society  were  so  much  changed  that  neither  the  moral 
impulsion  nor  the  social  need  which  had  precipitated  Europe 
upon  Asia  was  any  longer  felt.  1  do  not  know  if  many 
of  you  have  read  the  original  historians  of  the  crusades,  or 
whether  it  has  ever  occurred  to  you  to  compare  the  con- 
temporaneous chroniclers  of  the  first  crusades  with  those 
at  the  end  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  for  ex- 
ample, Albert  d^Aix,  Robert  the  Monk  ^nd  Raymond 
d^Agiles,  who  took  part  in  the  first  crusade,  with  William 
of  Tyre  and  James  de  Vitry,  When  we  compare  these  two 
classes  of  writers,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  by  the 
distance  which  separates  them.  The  first  are  animated 
chroniclers,  full  of  vivid  imagination,  who  recount  the 
events  of  the  crusades  with  passion.  But  they  are,  at  the 
same  time,  men  of  very  narrow  minds,  without  an  idea  be- 
yond the  little  sphere  in  which  they  have  lived;  strangers 
to  all  science,  full  of  prejudices,  and  incapable  of  forming 


184  HISTORY  OF 

any  judgment  whatever  upon  what  passes  around  them,  or 
upon  the  events  which  they  realate.  Open,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  history  of  the  crusades  by  William  of  Tyre:  you 
will  be  surprised  to  find  almost  an  historian  of  modern 
times,  a  mind  developed,  extensive  and  free,  a  rare  polit- 
ical understanding  of  events,  completeness  of  views,  a 
judgment  bearing  upon  causes  and  effects.  James  de  Vitry 
affords  an  example  of  a  different  kind  of  development;  he 
is  a  scholar,  who  not  only  concerns  himself  with  what  has 
reference  to  the  crusades,  but  also  occupies  himself  with 
manners,  geography,  ethnography,  natural  history;  who 
observes  and  describes  the  country.  In  a  word,  between 
the  chroniclers  of  the  first  crusades  and  the  historians  of 
the  last,  there  is  an  immense  interval,  which  indicates  a 
veritable  revolution  in  mind. 

This  revolution  is  above  all  seen  in  the  manner  in  which 
each  speaks  of  the  Mahommedans.  To  the  first  chroniclers, 
and  consequently  to  the  first  crusaders,  of  whom  the  first 
chroniclers  are  but  the  expression,  the  Mahommedans  are 
only  an  object  of  hatred.  It  is  evident  that  they  knew 
nothing  of  them,  that  they  weighed  them  not,  considered 
them  not,  except  under  the  point  of  view  of  the  religious 
hostility  which  existed  between  them;  we  discover  no  trace 
of  any  social  relation;  they  detested  and  fought  them,  and 
that  was  all.  William  of  Tyre,  James  de  Vitry,  and  Ber- 
nard the  Treasurer,  speak  quite  differently  of  the  Mussul- 
mans: one  feels  that,  although  fighting  them,  they  do  not 
look  upon  them  as  mere  monsters;  that  to  a  certain  point 
they  have  entered  into  their  ideas;  that  they  have  lived 
with  them,  that  there  is  a  sort  of  relation,  and  even  a  kind 
of  sympathy  established  between  them.  William  of  Tyre 
warmly  eulogizes  Noureddin — Bernard  the  Treasurer,  Sa- 
ladin.  They  even  go  far  as  to  compare  the  manners  and 
conduct  of  the  Mussulmans  with  those  of  the  Christians; 
they  take  advantage  of  the   Mussulmans  to  satirize  the 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE,  185 

Christians,  as  Tacitus  painted  the  manners  of  the  Germans 
in  contrast  with  the  manners  of  the  Romans.  You  see  how 
enormous  the  change  between  the  two  epochs  must  have 
been,  when  you  find  in  the  last,  with  regard  to  the  enemies 
of  the  Christians,  to  those  against  whom  the  crusades  were 
directed,  a  liberty  and  impartiality  of  spirit  which  would 
have  filled  the  first  crusaders  with  surprise  and  indigna- 
tion. 

This,  then,  was  the  first  and  principal  effect  of  the  cru- 
sades, a  great  step  toward  the  enfranchisement  of  mind,  a 
great  progress  toward  more  extensive  and  liberal  ideas. 
Commenced  in  the  name  and  under  the  influence  of  relig- 
ious creeds,  the  crusades  removed  from  religious  ideas,  I 
will  not  say  their  legitimate  influence,  but  the  exclusive 
and  despotic  possession  of  the  human  mind.  This  result, 
doubtless  altogether  unforeseen,  was  born  of  many  causes. 
The  first  is  evidently  the  novelty,  extension  and  variety  of 
the  spectacle  which  was  opened  to  the  view  of  the  crusaders. 
It  happened  with  them  as  with  travelers.  It  is  a  common 
saying  that  the  mind  of  travelers  becomes  enlarged;  that 
the  habit  of  observing  various  nations  and  manners,  and 
different  opinions,  extends  the  ideas,  and  frees  the  judg- 
ment from  old  prejudices.  The  same  fact  was  accom- 
plished among  these  traveling  nations  who  were  called 
crusaders:  their  minds  were  opened  and  elevated,  by  seeing 
a  multitude  of  different  things,  and  by  observing  other 
manners  than  their  own.  They  also  found  themselves  in 
juxtaposition  with  two  civilizations,  not  only  different  from 
their  own,  but  more  advanced;  the  Greek  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  Mahommedan  on  the  other.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  Greek  society,  although  enervated,  per- 
verted, and  falling  into  decay,  had  upon  the  crusaders 
the  effect  of  a  more  advanced,  polished  and  enlightened 
society  than  their  own.  The  Mahommedan  society  af- 
forded them  a    spectacle    of    the    same    nature.      It    is 


186  HISTORY  OF 

curious  to  observe  in  the  old  chroniclers  the  impression 
which  the  crusaders  made  upon  the  Mussulmans;  these 
latter  regarded  them  at  first  as  barbarians,  as  the 
rudest,  most  ferocious  and  most  stupid  class  of  men  they 
had  ever  seen.  The  crusaders,  on  their  part,  were  struck 
jwith  the  riches  and  elegance  of  manners  of  the  Mussul^ 
mans.  To  this  first  impression  succeeded  frequent  relations 
between  the  two  people.  These  extended  and  became 
much  more  important  than  is  generally  supposed.  Not 
only  had  the  Christians  of  the  east  habitual  relations  with 
the  Mussulmans,  but  the  west  and  the  east  became  ac- 
quainted, visited  and  mixed  with  each  other.  It  is  not 
long  since  that  one  of  those  scholars  who  honor  France  in 
the  eyes  of  Europe,  M.  Abel  Eemusat,  discovered  the  ex- 
istence of  relations  between  the  Mongol  emperors  and  the 
Christian  kings.  Mongol  ambassadors  were  sent  to  the 
Frank  kings,  to  Saint  Louis  among  others,  to  treat  for  an 
alliance  with  them,  and  to  recommence  the  crusades  in 
the  common  interest  of  the  Mongols  and  the  Christians 
against  the  Turks.  And  not  only  were  diplomatic  and 
official  relations  thus  established  between  the  sovereigns; 
frequent  and  various  national  relations  were  formed.  I 
ouote  the  words  of  M.  Abel  Eemusat.* 

"  Many  Italian,  French  and  Flemish  monks  were  charged 
with  diplomatic  missions  to  the  Great  Khan.  Mongols  of 
distinction  came  to  Eome,  Barcelona,  Valentia,  Lyons, 
Paris,  London,  Northampton;  and  a  Franciscan  of  the 
kingdom  of  Naples  was  archbishop  of  Pekin.  His  succes- 
sor was  a  professor  of  theology  of  the  faculty  of  Paris. 
But  how  many  others,  less  known,  were  drawn  after  these, 
either  as  slaves  or  attracted  by  the  desire  for  gain,  or  guided 
by  curiosity  into  countries  till  then  unknown!      Chance 

*  Memoires  sur  les  Relations  Politiques  des  Princes  Chretiens 
4Lmc  les  Empereurs  Mongols.     Deuxieme  Memoire,  pp.  154-157. 


GIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  187 

has  preserved  the  names  of  some:  the  first  who  came  to 
visit  the  King  of  Hungary,  on  the  part  of  the  Tartars,  was 
an  Englishman,  banished  from  his  country  for  certain 
crimes,  and  who,  after  wandering  all  over  Asia,  ended  by 
taking  service  among  the  Mongols.  A  Flemish  shoemaker 
met  in  the  depths  of  Tartary  a  woman  from  Metz,  named 
Paquette,  who  had  been  carried  off  from  Hungary;  a 
Parisian  goldsmith,  whose  brother  was  established  at  Paris, 
upon  the  great  bridge,  and  a  young  man  from  the  environs 
of  Kouen,  who  had  been  at  the  taking  of  Belgrade.  He 
saw,  also,  Russians,  Hungarians  and  Flemings.  A  chor- 
ister, named  Eobert,  after  having  traveled  over  Eastern 
Asia,  returned  to  finish  his  davs  in  the  cathedral  of 
Chartres.  A  Tartar  was  purveyor  of  helmets  in  the  army 
of  Philip  the  Handsome;  John  de  Plancarpin  found  near 
Gayonk  a  Russian  gentleman,  whom  he  calls  Temer,  who 
was  serving  as  an  interpreter;  many  merchants  of  Breslau, 
Poland  and  Austria  accompanied  him  on  his  journey  to 
Tartary.  Others  returned  with  him  by  way  of  Russia; 
these  were  Genoese,  Pisans  and  Venetians.  Two  mer- 
chants, whom  chance  had  led  to  Bokhara,  consented  to 
follow  a  Mongol  ambassador  sent  by  Koulagou  to  Khou- 
bilai.  They  sojourned  several  years  both  in  China  and 
Tartary,  returned  with  letters  from  the  Great  Khan  to  the 
Pope;  again  returned  to  the  Great  Khan,  taking  with 
them  the  son  of  one  of  them,  the  celebrated  Marco  Polo, 
and  again  quitted  the  court  of  Khoubilai  to  return  to 
Venice.  Travels  of  this  kind  were  not  less  frequent  in  the 
following  century.  Among  the  number  are  those  of  Sir 
John  Mandeville,  an  English  physician,  of  Oderic  of 
Friula,  of  Pegoletti,  of  William  de  Bouldeselle,  and  several 
others,  and  we  may  suppose  that  those  whose  memorials 
are  preserved  form  but  the  least  part  of  what  were  under- 
taken, and  that  there  were  at  this  period  more  persons 
capable  of  executing  long  journeys  than  of  writing  an 


188  HISTORY  OF 

account  of  them.  Many  of  these  adventurers  remained 
and  died  in  the  countries  which  they  visited.  Others 
returned  to  their  country  as  obscure  as  when  they  left  it, 
but  with  an  imagination  filled  with  what  they  had  seen, 
relating  it  to  their  family,  exaggerating,  no  doubt,  but 
leaving  around  them,  amid  absurd  fables,  useful  remem- 
brances and  traditions  capable  of  bearing  fruit.  Thus  in 
Germany,  Italy  and  France,  in  the  monasteries,  in  the 
castles  of  the  lords,  and  even  down  to  the  lowest  ranks  of 
society,  were  deposited  precious  seeds  destined  before  long 
to  germinate.  All  these  unknown  travelers  carried  the  arts 
of  their  native  land  into  the  most  distant  countries,  brought 
back  other  knowledge  no  less  precious,  and  i.hus  made, 
without  being  aware  of  it,  more  advantageous  exchanges 
than  all  those  of  commerce.  By  these  means  not  only 
the  trade  in  silk,  porcelain  and  Indian  commodities  was 
extended  and  facilitated — new  routes  opened  to  com- 
mercial industry  and  activity — but,  what  was  of  much 
more  importance,  foreign  manners,  unknown  nations, 
extraordinary  productions,  offered  themselves  in  crowds 
to  the  minds  of  the  Europeans,  confined,  since  the  fall 
of  the  Roman  Empire,  within  too  narrow  a  circle.  They 
began  to  know  the  value  of  the  most  beautiful,  the  most 
populous,  and  the  most  anciently  civilized  of  the  four  quar- 
ters of  the  globe.  They  began  to  study  the  arts,  creeds> 
and  idioms  of  its  inhabitants,  and  there  was  even  talk  of 
establishing  a  professorship  of  the  Tartar  language  in  the 
University  of  Paris.  Romantic  narrative,  when  duly  dis- 
cussed and  investigated,  spread  on  all  sides  more  just  and 
varied  notions.  The  world  seemed  to  open  on  the  side  of 
the  east;  geography  took  a  great  stride,  and  the  desire  for 
discovery  became  the  new  form  which  clothed  the  advent- 
urous spirit  of  the  Europeans.  The  idea  of  another  hemis- 
phere ceased  to  present  itself  as  a  paradox  void  of  all 
probability,  when  our  own  became  better  known;  and  it 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  '         189 

was  in  searching  for  the  Zipangri  of  Marco  Polo  that 
Christopher  Columbus  discovered  the  New  World." 

You  see,  by  the  facts  which  led  to  the  impulsion  of  the 
crusades,  what,  at  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries, 
was  the  new  and  vast  world  which  was  thrown  open  to  the 
European  mind.  There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  this  was 
one  of  the  most  powerful  causes  of  development,  and  of  the 
freedom  of  mind  which  shone  forth  at  the  end  of  this  great 
event. 

There  is  another  cause  which  merits  observation.  Down 
to  the  time  of  the  crusades,  the  court  of  Rome,  the  center 
of  the  church,  had  never  been  in  communication  with  the 
laity,  except  through  the  medium  of  ecclesiastics,  whether 
legates  sent  from  the  court  of  Rome,  or  the  bishops  and 
the  entire  clergy.  There  had  always  been  some  laymen  in 
direct  relation  with  Rome;  but,  taken  all  together,  it  was 
through  the  ecclesiastics  that  she  communicated  with  the 
people.  During  the  crusades,  on  the  contrary,  Rome 
became  a  place  of  passage  to  the  greater  part  of  the  eru- 
saders,  both  in  going  and  in  returning.  Numbers  of  the 
laity  viewed  her  policy  and  manners,  and  could  see  how 
much  of  personal  interest  influenced  religious  controversy. 
Doubtless  this  new  knowledge  inspired  many  minds  with 
a  hardihood  till  then  unknown. 

When  we  consider  the  state  of  minds  in  general,  at  the 
end  of  the  crusades,  and  particularly  in  ecclesiastical  matters, 
it  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  by  one  singular  fact: 
religious  ideas  experienced  no  change;  they  had  not  been 
replaced  by  contrary  or  even  different  opinions.  Yet  minds 
were  infinitely  more  free;  religious  creeds  were  no  longer 
the  only  sphere  in  which  it  was  brought  into  play;  without 
abandoning  them,  it  began  to  separate  itself  from  them, 
and  carry  itself  elsewhere.  Thus,  at  the  end  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  the  moral  cause  which  had  determined  the 
crusades,  which  at  least  was  its  most  energetic  principle. 


190  EI8T0RT  OH 

had  vanished;  the  moral  state  of  Europe  was  profoundlj 
modified. 

The  social  state  had  undergone  an  analogous  change. 
Much  investigation  has  been  expended  upon  what  was  the 
influence  of  the  crusades  in  this  respect;  it  has  been  shown 
how  they  reduced  a  large  number  of  fief  holders  to  the 
necessity  of  selling  them  to  their  sovereigns,  or  of  selling 
charters  to  the  boroughs  in  order  to  procure  the  means  of 
following  the  crusade.  It  has  been  shown  that  by  their 
mere  absence  many  of  the  lords  must  have  lost  the  greater 
portion  of  their  power.  Without  entering  into  the  details 
of  this  inquiry,  we  may,  I  think,  resolve  into  a  few  general 
facts  the  influence  of  the  crusades  upon  the  social  state. 

They  greatly  diminished  the  number  of  petty  fiefs  and 
small  domains,  of  inferior  fief -holders;  and  they  concentred 
property  and  power  in  a  smaller  number  of  hands.  It  is 
with  the  commencement  of  the  crusades  that  we  see  the 
formation  and  augmentation  of  large  fiefs  and  great  feudal 
existences. 

I  have  often  regretted  that  there  is  no  map  of  France 
divided  into  fiefs,  as  there  is  of  its  division  into  departments, 
arrondissements,  cantons  and  parishes,  in  which  all  the 
fiefs  should  be  marked,  with  their  extent  and  successive 
relations  and  changes.  If  we  were  to  compare,  with  the 
aid  of  such  a  map,  the  state  of  France  before  and  after  the 
crusades,  we  should  see  how  many  fiefs  had  vanished,  and 
to  what  a  degree  the  great  and  middle  fiefs  had  increased. 
This  was  one  of  the  most  important  facts  to  which  the 
crusades  led. 

Even  where  the  petty  proprietors  preserved  their  fiefs, 
they  no  longer  lived  as  isolated  as  formerly.  The  great  fief- 
holders  became  so  many  centers  around  which  the  smaller 
ones  converged,  and  near  to  which  they  passed  their  lives. 
It  had  become  necessary  during  the  crusades  for  them  to 
put  themselves  in  the  train  of  the  richest  and  most  powerful. 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE,      '  191 

to  receive  succor  from  him;  they  had  lived  with  him,  par- 
taken of  his  fortune,  gone  through  the  same  adventures. 
When  the  crusaders  returned  home,  this  sociability,  this 
habit  of  living  near  to  the  superior  lord,  remained  fixed  in 
their  manners.  Thus  as  we  see  the  augmentation  of  the 
great  fiefs  after  the  crusades,  so  we  see  the  holders  of  those 
fiefs  holding  a  much  more  considerable  court  in  the  in- 
terior of  their  castles,  having  near  them  a  larger  number 
of  gentlemen  who  still  preserved  their  small  domains,  but 
did  not  shut  themselves  up  within  them. 

The  extension  of  the  great  fiefs  and  the  creation  of  a 
certain  number  of  centers  of  society,  in  place  of  the  dis- 
persion which  formerly  existed,  are  the  two  principal  effects 
brought  about  by  the  crusades  in  the  heart  of  feudalism. 

As  to  the  burghers,  a  result  of  the  same  nature  is  easily 
perceptible.  The  crusades  created  the  great  boroughs. 
Petty  commerce  and  industry  did  not  suffice  to  create 
boroughs  such  as  the  great  towns  of  Italy  and  Flanders 
were.  It  vvas  commerce  on  a  great  scale,  maritime  com- 
merce, and  especially  that  of  the  east,  which  gave  rise  to 
them;  it  was  the  crusades  which  gave  to  maritime  com- 
merce the  most  powerful  impulsion  it  had  ever  received. 

Upon  the  whole,  when  we  regard  the  state  of  society  at 
the  end  of  the  crusades,  we  find  that  this  movement  of 
dissolution,  of  the  dispersion  of  existences  and  influences, 
this  movement  of  universal  localization,  if  such  a  phrase 
be  permitted,  which  had  preceded  this  epoch,  had  ceased, 
by  a  movement  with  an  exactly  contrary  tendency,  by  a 
movement  of  centralization.  All  now  tended  to  approxi- 
mation. The  lesser  existences  were  either  absorbed  in  the 
greater,  or  were  grouped  around  them.  It  was  in  this 
direction  that  society  advanced,  that  all  its  progress  was 
made. 

You  now  see  why,  toward  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  centuries,  neither  people  nor  sovereigns  any 


192  BISTORT  OF 

longer  desired  the  crusades;  they  had  no  longer  either  the 
need  or  desire  for  them;  they  had  been  cast  into  them  by 
the  impulsion  of  the  religious  spirit,  and  by  the  exclusive 
domination  of  religious  ideas  upon  the  whole  existence; 
this  domination  had  lost  its  energy.  They  had  sought,  too, 
in  the  crusades  a  new  life,  more  extensive  and  more  varied; 
they  now  began  to  find  it  in  Europe  itself,  in  the  progress 
of  social  relations.  It  was  at  this  epoch  the  career  of  polit- 
ical aggrandizement  opened  itself  to  kings.  Wherefore 
seek  kingdoms  in  Asia,  when  they  had  them  to  conquer  at 
their  own  doors?  Philip  Augustus  went  to  the  crusades 
against  his  will:  what  could  be  more  natural?  He  had  to 
make  himself  king  of  France.  It  was  the  same  with  the 
people.  The  career  of  riches  opened  before  their  eyes; 
they  renounced  adventures  for  work.  For  the  sovereigns, 
the  place  of  adventures  was  supplied  by  policy;  for  the 
people,  by  work  on  a  great  scale.  One  single  class  of  soci- 
ety still  had  a  taste  for  adventure;  this  was  that  portion  of 
feudal  nobility  who,  not  being  in  a  condition  to  think  of 
political  aggrandizement,  and  not  liking  work,  preserved 
their  ancient  condition  and  manners.  They  therefore 
continued  to  rush  to  the  crusades,  and  attempted  their 
revival. 

Such,  in  my  opinion,  are  the  great  and  true  effects  of 
the  crusades:  on  one  side,  the  extension  of  ideas^  the  en- 
franchisement of  mind;  on  the  other,  the  aggrandizement 
of  existences  and  a  large  sphere  opened  to  activity  of  all 
kind;  they  produced  at  once  a  greater  degree  of  individual 
liberty,  and  of  political  unity.  They  aided  the  independ- 
ence of  man  and  the  centralization  of  society.  Much  has 
been  asked  as  to  the  means  of  civilization — which  they 
directly  imported  from  the  east;  it  has  been  said  that  the 
chief  portion  of  the  great  discoveries  which,  in  the  four- 
teenth and  fifteenth  centuries,  called  forth  the  develop- 
ment of   European  civilization  —  the   compass,   printing. 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  193 

gunpowder — were  known  in  the  east,  and  that  the  crusad- 
ers may  have  brought  them  thence.  This,  to  a  certain 
point,  is  true.  But  some  of  these  assertions  are  disputable. 
That  which  is  not  disputable  is  this  influence,  this  general 
effect  of  the  crusades  upon  the  mind  on  one  hand,  and 
upon  society  on  the  other  hand;  they  drew  European 
society  from  a  very  straightened  tract,  and  led  it  into  new 
and  infinitely  more  extensive  paths;  they  commenced  that 
transformation  of  the  various  elements  of  European  society 
into  governments  and  peoples  which  is  the  character  of 
modern  civilization.  About  the  same  time,  royalty,  one 
of  those  institutions  which  have  most  powerfully  contrib- 
uted to  this  great  result,  developed  itself.  Its  history, 
from  the  birth  of  modern  states  down  to  the  thirteenth 
century,  will  form  the  subject  of  my  next  lecture. 


194  mSTORT  OF 


NINTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Important  part  taken  by  royalty  in  the  history 
of  Europe,  and  in  the  history  of  the  world — True  causes  of  this 
importance — Two- fold  point  of  view  under  which  the  institution 
of  royalty  should  be  considered — 1st.  Its  true  and  permanent 
nature — It  is  the  personification  of  the  sovereignty  of  right — 
With  what  limits — 2d.  Its  flexibility  and  diversity — European 
royalty  seems  to  be  the  result  of  various  kinds  of  royalty — Of 
barbarian  royalty — Of  imperial  royalty — Of  religious  royalty — • 
Of  feudal  royalty — Of  modern  royalty,  properly  so  called,  and  of 
its  true  character. 

In  our  last  lecture  I  attempted  to  determine  the  essen* 
tial  and  distinctive  character  of  modern  European  society 
as  compared  with  primitive  European  society;  I  believe 
that  we  discovered  in  this  fact  that  all  the  elements  of 
the  social  state,  at  first  numerous  and  various,  reduce 
themselves  to  two:  on  one  hand  the  government,  and  on 
the  other  the  people.  Instead  of  encountering  the  feudal 
nobility,  the  clergy,  the  kings,  burghers  and  serfs  as  the 
dominant  powers  and  chief  actors  in  history,  we  find  in 
modern  Europe  but  two  great  figures  which  alone  occupy 
the  historic  scene,  the  government  and  the  country. 

If  such  is  the  fact  in  which  European  civilization  ter- 
minates, such  also  is  the  end  to  which  we  should  tend,  and 
to  which  our  researches  should  conduct  us.  It  is  necessary 
that  we  should  see  this  grand  result  take  birth,  and  pro- 
gressively develop  and  strengthen  itself.  We  are  entered 
upon  the  epoch  in  which  we  may  arrive  at  its  origin:  it 
was,  as  you  have  seen,  between  the  twelfth  and  the  six- 
teenth century  that  the  slow  and  concealed  work  operated 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  195 

fo  Europe  which  has  led  our  society  to  this  new  form  and 
definite  state.  We  have  Hkewise  studied  the  first  great 
event,  which,  in  my  opinion,  evidently  and  powerfully  im- 
pelled Europe  in  this  direction,  that  is,  the  crusades. 

About  the  same  epoch,  almost  at  the  moment  that  the 
crusades  broke  out,  that  institution  commenced  its  ag- 
grandizement, which  has,  perhaps,  contributed  more  than 
anything  to  the  formation  of  modern  society,  and  to  that 
fusion  of  all  the  social  elements  into  two  powers,  the  gov- 
ernment and  the  people;  royalty. 

It  is  evident  that  royalty  has  played  a  prodigious  part  in 
the  history  of  European  civilization;  a  single  glance  at 
facts  suffices  to  convince  one  of  it;  we  see  the  development 
of  royalty  marching  with  the  same  step,  so  to  speak,  at 
least  for  a  long  period,  as  that  of  society  itself;  the  prog- 
ress is  mutual. 

And  not  only  is  the  progress  mutual,  but  whenever 
society  advances  toward  its  modern  and  definitive  character, 
royalty  seems  to  extend  and  prosper;  so  that  when  the  work 
is  consummated,  when  there  is  no  longer  any,  or  scarcely 
any,  other  important  or  decisive  influence  in  the  great  states 
of  Europe,  than  that  of  the  government  and  the  public, 
royality  is  the  government. 

And  it  has  thus  happenec',  not  only  in  France,  where 
the  fact  is  evident,  but  also  in  the  greater  portion  of 
European  countries:  a  little  earlier  or  a  little  later,  under 
somewhat  different  forms,  the  same  result  is  offered  us  in 
the  history  of  society  in  England,  Spain  and  Germany. 
In  England,  for  example,  it  was  under  the  Tudors  that  the 
ancient,  peculiar  and  local  elements  of  English  society 
were  perverted  and  dissolved,  and  gave  place  to  the  system 
of  public  powers;  this  also  was  the  time  of  the  greatest  in- 
fluence of  royality.  It  was  the  same  in  Germany,  Spain 
ftnd  all  the  great  European  states. 

If  we  leave  Europe,  and  if  we  turn  our  view  upon 


196  HISTORY  OF 

the  rest  of  the  world,  we  shall  be  struck  by  an  anal 
ogous  fact;  we  shall  everywhere  find  royalty  occupying 
an  important  position,  appearing  as,  perhaps,  the  most 
general  and  permanent  of  institutions,  the  most  difficul' 
to  prevent,  where  it  did  not  formerly  exist,  and  the  most 
difficult  to  root  out  where  it  had  existed.  From 
time  immemorial  it  has  possessed  Asia.  At  the  dis- 
covery of  America,  all  the  great  states  there  were  found 
with  different  combinations,  subject  to  the  monarchical 
system.  When  we  penetrate  into  the  interior  of  Africa, 
wherever  we  meet  with  nations  in  any  way  extensive,  this 
is  the  prevailing  system.  And  not  only  has  royalty  pene- 
trated everywhere,  but  it  has  accommodated  itself  to  the 
most  diverse  situations,  to  civilization  and  to  barbarism,  to 
manners  the  most  pacific,  as  in  China,  for  example,  and  to 
those  in  which  war,  in  which  the  military  spirit  dominates. 
It  has  alike  established  itself  in  the  heart  of  the  system  of 
castes,  in  the  most  rigorously  classified  societies,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  system  of  equality,  in  societies  which  are  utter 
strangers  to  all  legal  and  permanent  classification.  Here 
despotic  and  oppressive,  there  favorable  to  civilization  and 
even  to  liberty,  it  seems  like  a  head  which  may  be  placed 
upon  a  multitude  of  different  bodies,  a  fruit  that  will  spring 
from  the  most  dissimilar  germs. 

In  this  fact  we  may  discover  many  curious  and  important 
consequences.  I  will  take  only  two.  The  first  is,  that  it 
is  impossible  such  a  result  should  be  the  fruit  of  mere 
chance^  of  force  or  usurpation  alone;  it  is  impossible  but 
that  there  snould  be  a  profound  and  powerful  analogy  be- 
tween the  nature  of  royalty,  considered  as  an  institution, 
and  the  nature,  whether  of  individual  man,  or  of  human 
society.  Doubtless  force  is  intermixed  with  the  origin  of 
the  institution;  doubtless  force  has  taken  an  important  part 
in  its  progress;  but  when  we  meet  with  such  a  result  as  this, 
when  we  see  a  great  event  developing  and  reproducing 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  197 

itself  during  the  course  of  many  centuries,  and  in  the  midst 
of  such  different  situations,  we  cannot  attribute  it  to  force. 
Force  plays  a  great  part  and  an  incessant  one  in  human 
affairs;  but  it  is  not  their  principle,  their  primum  mobile; 
above  force  and  the  part  which  it  plays  there  hovers  a 
moral  cause  which  decides  the  totality  of  things.  It  is  with 
force  in  the  history  of  societies  as  with  the  body  in  the  his- 
tory of  man.  The  body  surely  holds  a  high  place  in  the 
life  of  man,  but  still  it  is  not  the  principle  of  life.  Life  cir- 
culates within  it,  but  it  does  not  emanate  from  it.  So  it  is 
with  hrman  societies;  whatever  part  force  takes  therein,  it 
is  not  force  which  governs  them,  and  which  presides  su- 
premely over  their  destinies;  it  is  ideas  and  moral  influences, 
which  conceal  themselves  under  the  accidents  of  force  and 
regulate  the  course  of  the  society.  It  is  a  cause  of  this 
kind,  and  not  force,  which  gave  success  to  royalty. 

A  second  fact,  and  one  which  is  no  less  worthy  of  remark, 
is  the  flexibility  of  the  institution,  its  faculty  of  modifying 
and  adapting  itself  to  a  multitude  of  different  circum- 
stances. Mark  the  contrast:  its  form  is  unique,  perma- 
nent and  simple;  it  does  not  offer  that  prodigious  variety  of 
combinations  which  we  see  in  other  institutions,  and  yet  it 
applies  itself  to  societies  which  the  least  resemble  it.  It 
must  evidently  allow  of  great  diversity,  and  must  attach 
itself,  whether  in  man  himself  or  in  society,  to  many  differ- 
ent elements  and  principles. 

It  is  from  not  having  considered  the  institution  of  roy- 
alty in  its  whole  extent;  from  not  having,  on  the  one  hand, 
penetrated  to  its  peculiar  and  fixed  principle,  which,  what- 
ever may  be  the  circumstances  to  which  it  applies  itself,  is 
its  very  essence  and  being — and  on  the  other,  from  not 
having  estimated  all  the  varieties  to  which  it  lends  itself, 
and  all  the  principles  with  which  it  may  enter  into  alliance; 
it  is,  I  say,  from  not  having  considered  royalty  under  this 
vast  and  twofold  point  of  view,  that  the  part  taken  by  it 


198  HISTORY  OF 

in  the  history  of  the  world  has  not  been  always  compre- 
hended, that  its  nature  and  effects  have  often  been  mis- 
construed. 

This  is  the  work  which  I  wish  to  go  through  with  you, 
and  in  such  a  manner  as  to  take  an  exact  and  complete 
estimate  of  the  effects  of  this  institution  in  modern  Europe, 
whether  they  have  flowed  from  its  own  peculiar  principles 
or  the  modifications  which  it  has  undergone. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  force  of  royalty,  that 
moral  power  which  is  its  true  principle,  does  not  reside  in 
the  sole  and  pei'sonal  will  of  the  man  momentarily  king;  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  people,  in  accepting  it  as  an  insti- 
tution, philosophers  in  maintaini^ig  it  as  a  system,  have  not 
intended  or  consented  to  accept  the  empire  of  the  will  of  a 
man  essentially  narrow,  arbitrary,  capricious  and   ignorant. 

Eoyalty  is  quite  a  distinct  thing  from  the  will  of  a  man, 
although  it  presents  itself  in  that  form;  it  is  the  personifi- 
cation of  the  sovereignty  of  right,  of  that  will,  essentially 
reasonable,  enlightened,  just  and  impartial,  foreign  and 
superior  to  all  individual  wills,  and  which  in  virtue  of  this 
title  has  a  right  to  govern  them.  Such  is  the  meaning  of 
royalty  in  the  minds  of  nations,  such  the  motive  for  their 
adhesion. 

Is  it  true  that  there  is  a  sovereignty  of  right,  a  will  which 
possesses  the  right  of  governing  men?  It  is  quite  certain 
that  they  believe  so;  because  they  seek,  and  constantly 
have  sought,  and  indeed  cannot  but  seek,  to  place  them- 
selves under  its  empire.  Conceive  to  yourselves  the 
smallest  assembly  of  men,  I  will  not  say  a  people:  conceive 
that  assembly  under  the  submission  to  a  sovereign  who  is 
only  so  de  facto,  under  a  force  which  has  no  right  except 
that  of  force,  which  governs  neither  according  to  reason, 
justice  nor  truth;  human  nature  revolts  at  such  a  supposi- 
tion— it  must  have  right  to  believe  in.  It  is  the  suprem- 
acy of  right  which  it  seeks,  that  is  the  only  power  to  which 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  19^ 

man  consents  to  submit.  What  is  history  but  the  demon* 
stration  of  this  universal  fact?  What  are  the  greater  por- 
tion of  the  struggles  which  take  place  in  the  life  of  nations' 
but  an  ardent  effort  toward  the  sovereignty  of  right,  so^ 
that  they  may  place  themselves  under  its  empire?  And 
not  only  nations  but  philosophers  believe  in  its  exist- 
ence, and  incessantly  seek  it.  What  are  all  the  systems  of 
political  philosophy,  but  the  search  for  the  sovereign  of 
right?  What  is  it  that  they  treat  of,  but  the  question  of 
knowing  who  has  a  right  to  govern  society?  Take  the- 
theocratical,  monarchical,  aristocratical  or  democratical 
systems,  all  of  them  boast  of  having  discovered  wherein  the- 
sovereignty  of  right  resides;  all  promise  to  society  that 
they  will  place  it  undor  the  rule  of  it<7  legitimate  master. 
I  repeat,  this  is  the  end  alike  of  all  the  works  of  philos- 
ophers, of  all  efforts  of  nations. 

How  should  they  but  believe  in  the  sovereignty  of  right^ 
How  should  they  but  be  constantly  in  search  of  it?  Take^ 
the  most  simplo  suppositions;  let  there  be  something  ta 
accomplish,  some  influence  to  exercise,  whether  upon  soci- 
ety in  its  whole,  or  upon  a  number  of  its  members,  or 
upon  a  single  individual;  there  is  evidently  always  a  rule- 
for  this  action,  a  legitimate  will  to  follow  and  apply, 
whether  you  penetrate  into  the  smallest  details  of  social 
life,  or  whether  you  elevate  yourselves  to  the  greatest 
events,  you  will  everywhere  encounter  a  truth  to  be  proved, 
or  a  just  and  reasonable  idea  to  be  passed  into  reality. 
This  is  the  sovereign  of  right,  toward  which  philosophers 
and  nations  have  never  ceased  and  never  can  cease  to 
aspire. 

Up  to  what  point  can  the  sovereignty  of  right  be  repre-^ 
sented  in  a  general  and  permanent  manner  by  a  terrestrial 
force  or  by  a  human  will?  How  far  is  such  a  supposition 
aecessarily  false  and  dangerous?  What  should  be  thought 
in  particular  of  the  personification  of  the  sovereignty  of 


200  HISTORY  OF 

right  under  the  image  of  royalty?  Upon  what  conditions, 
i^ithin  what  limits  is  this  personification  admissible? 
Great  questions,  which  I  have  not  to  treat  of  here,  but 
which  I  could  not  resist  pointing  out,  and  upon  which  I 
shall  say  ?  word  in  passing. 

I  affirm,  and  the  merest  common  sense  will  acknowledge, 
^hat  the  sovereignty  of  right  completely  and  permanently 
can  appertain  to  no  oner  that  all  attribution  of  the  sov- 
ereignty of  right  to  any  human  power  whatsoever  is  rad- 
ically false  and  dangerous.  Hence  arises  the  necessity  for 
the  limitation  of  all  powers,  whatever  their  names  or 
forms  may  be;  hence  the  radical  illegitimacy  of  all  absolute 
power,  whether  its  origin  be  from  conquest,  inheritance,  or 
election.  People  may  differ  as  to  the  best  means  of  seek- 
ing the  sovereign  of  right;  they  may  vary  as  to  place  and 
times:  but  in  no  place,  no  time,  can  any  legitimate  power 
be  the  independent  possessor  of  this  sovereigntyo 

This  principle  being  laid  down,  it  is  no  less  certain  that 
royalty,  in  whatever  system  it  is  considered,  presents  itself 
-as  the  personification  of  the  sovereign  of  right.  Listen  to 
the  theocratical  system;  it  will  tell  you  that  kings  are  the 
image  oi  God  upon  earth;  this  is  only  saying  that  they  are 
the  personification  of  sovereign  justice,  truth  and  good 
iiess.  Address  j^^ourseif  to  the  jurisconsults;  they  will  tell 
you  that  the  king  is  the  living  law;  that  is  to  say,  the  king 
is  the  personification  of  the  sovereign  of  right,  of  the  just 
law,  which  has  the  right  of  governing  society.  Ask  roy- 
alty itself,  in  the  system  of  pure  monarchy;  it  will  tell  you 
shat  it  is  the  personification  of  the  state,  of  the  general 
interest.  In  w^hatever  alliance  and  in  whatever  situation 
you  consider  it,  you  will  always  find  it  summing  itself  up 
in  the  pretension  of  representing  and  reproducing  the  sov- 
ereign of  right,  alone  capable  of  legitimately  governing 
society. 

There  is  no  occasion  for  astonishment  in  all  this.     What 


a^TILIZA  TION  IN  EXJUOPK  201 

are  the  characteristics  of  the  sovereign  of  right,  the 
characteristics  derivable  from  his  very  nature?  In  the  first 
place  he  is  !inique;  since  there  is  but  one  truth,  one 
justice,  there  can  be  but  one  soverign  of  right.  He  is  per- 
manent^  always  the  same;  truth  never  changes.  He  is- 
placed  in  a  superior  situation,  a  stranger  to  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes and  changes  of  this  world;  his  part  in  the  world  is, 
as  it  were,  that  of  a  spectator  and  judge.  Well,  it  is  roy- 
alty which  externally  reproduces,  under  the  most  simple 
form,  that  which  appears  its  most  faithful  image,  these 
rational  and  natural  characteristics  of  the  sovereign  of  right. 
Open  the  work  in  which  M.  Benjamin  Constant  has  sa 
ingeniously  represented  royalty  as  a  neutral  and  moder- 
ating power,  raised  above  the  accidents  and  struggles  of 
social  life,  and  only  interfering  at  great  crises.  Is  not 
this,  so  to  speak,  the  attitude  of  the  sovereign  of  right  in 
the  government  of  human  things?  There  must  be  some- 
thing in  this  idea  well  calculated  to  impress  the  mind,  for 
it  has  passed  with  singular  rapidity  from  books  to  facts. 
One  sovereign  made  it  in  the  constitution  of  Brazil  the 
very  foundation  of  his  throne;  there  royalty  is  represented 
as  a  moderating  power,  raised  above  all  active  powers,  as  a 
spectator  and  judge. 

Under  whatever  point  of  view  you  resrard  this  institution 
as  compared  with  the  sovereign  of  right,  you  will  find  that 
there  is  a  great  external  resemblance,  and  that  it  is  natural 
for  it  to  have  struck  the  minds  of  men.  Accordingly, 
whenever  their  reflection  or  imagination  turned  with  pref- 
erence toward  the  contemplation  or  study  of  the  nature  of 
the  sovereign  of  right,  and  his  essential  characteristics, 
they  have  inclined  toward  royalty.  As  in  the  time  of  the 
preponderance  of  religious  ideas,  the  habitual  contempla- 
tion of  the  nature  of  God  led  mankind  toward  the  mon* 
archical  system,  so  when  the  jurisconsults  dominated  in 
society,  the  habit  of  studying,  under  the  name  of  the  law. 


502  HISTORY  OF 

the  nature  of  the  sovereign  of  right,  was  favorable  to  the 
dogma  of  his  personification  in  royalty.  The  attentive 
application  of  the  human  mind  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  nature  of  the  sovereignty  of  right  when  no  other 
causes  have  interfered  to  destroy  the  effect,  has  always 
given  force  and  credit  to  royalty,  which  presents  its  image. 
Moreover,  there  are  times  peculiarly  favorable  to  this 
personification.  These  are  the  times  when  individual 
powers  display  themselves  in  the  world  with  all  their  risks 
and  caprices;  times  when  egotism  dominates  in  individu- 
als, whether  from  ignorance  and  brutality,  or  from  corrup- 
tion. Then  society,  abandoned  to  the  contests  of  personal 
wills,  and  unable  to  raise  itself  by  their  free  concurrence  to 
a  common  and  universal  will,  passionately  long  for  a  sover- 
eign to  whom  all  individuals  may  be  forced  to  submit;  and 
the  moment  any  institution,  bearing  any  one  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  sovereignty  of  right,  presented  itself  and 
promised  its  empire  to  society,  society  rallied  round  it  with 
eager  earnestness,  like  outlaws  taking  refuge  in  the  asylum 
of  a  church.  This  is  what  has  been  seen  in  the  disorderly 
youth  of  nations,  such  as  we  have  surveyed.  Eoyalty  is 
admirably  adapted  to  epochs,  of  vigorous  and  fruitful 
anarchy,  so  to  speak,  when  society  desires  to  form  and  reg- 
ulate itself,  without  knowing  how  to  do  so  by  the  free  con- 
cord of  individual  wills.  There  are  other  times  when, 
from  directly  opposite  causes,  it  has  the  same  recommenda- 
tion. Wh]?  did  the  Roman  Empire,  so  nearly  in  a  state  of 
dissolution  at  the  end  of  the  republic,  subsist  for  nearly 
fifteen  centuries  afterward,  under  the  name  of  that  empire 
which,  after  all,  was  but  a  continual  decay,  a  lengthened 
agony?  Royalty  alone  could  produce  such  an  effect;  that 
alone  could  hold  together  a  society  which  selfishness 
incessantly  tended  to  destroy.  The  imperial  power  strug- 
gled for  fifteen  centuries  against  the  ruin  of  the  Roman 
world. 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  203 

Thus  there  are  times  when  royalty  alone  can  retard  the 
dissolution  of  society,  and  times  when  it  alone  accelerates 
its  formation.  And  in  both  these  cases  it  is  because  it 
represents  more  clearly  and  powerfully  than  any  other  form 
the  sovereignty  of  right,  that  it  exercises  this  power  upon 
events. 

From  whatever  point  of  view  you  may  consider  this  insti- 
tution, and  at  whatever  epoch,  you  will  acknowledge  then 
that  its  essential  characteristic,  its  moral  principle,  its  true 
and  inmost  meaning  is  the  image,  the  personification,  the 
presumed  interpreter  of  this  unique,  superior  and  essen- 
tially legitimate  will,  which  alone  has  the  right  of  govern- 
ing society. 

Let  us  now  regard  royalty  from  the  second  point  of  view, 
that  is  to  say,  in  its  flexibility,  in  the  variety  of  parts  which 
it  has  played,  and  the  effects  which  it  has  produced;  it  i» 
necessary  that  we  should  give  the  reason  of  these  features 
and  determine  their  causes. 

Here  we  have  an  advantage;  we  can  immediately  enter 
upon  history,  and  upon  our  own  history.  By  a  concourse 
of  singular  circumstances  it  has  happened  that  in  modern 
Europe  royalty  has  assumed  every  character  under  which 
it  has  shown  itself  in  the  history  of  the  world.  If  I  may 
be  allowed  to  use  an  arithmetical  expression,  European 
royalty  is  the  sum  total  of  all  possible  species  of  royalty. 
1  will  run  over  its  history  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury; you  will  see  how  various  are  the  aspects  under  which 
it  presents  itself,  and  to  what  an  extent  we  shall  every- 
where find  this  character  of  variety,  complication  and  con- 
flict which  belongs  to  all  European  civilization. 

In  the  fifth  century,  at  the  time  of  the  great  German  in- 
vasion,  two  royalties  are  present;  the  barbarian  and  the 
imperial  royalty,  that  of  Clovis  and  that  of  Constantine> 
both  differing  essentially  in  principles  and  effects.  Bar- 
baric royalty  is  essentially  elective;  the  German  kings  were 


204  BISTORT  OF 

elected,  although  their  election  did  not  take  place  with  the 
same  forms  which  we  are  accustomed  to  attach  to  the  idea; 
they  were  military  chiefs,  who  were  bound  to  make  theii 
power  freely  acceptable  to  a  large  number  of  companions, 
who  obeyed  them  as  being  the  most  brave  and  the  most 
able  among  them.  Election  is  the  true  source  of  barbaric 
royalty,  its  primitive  and  essential  characteristic. 

Not  that  this  characteristic  in  the  fifth  century  was  not 
already  a  little  modified,  or  that  different  elements  had  not 
been  introduced  into  royalty.  The  various  tribes  had  had 
their  chiefs  for  a  certain  time:  some  families  had  raised 
themselves  to  more  trust,  consideration  and  riches  than 
others.  Hence  a  commencement  of  inheritance;  the  chief 
was  now  mostly  elected  out  of  these  families.  This  was 
the  first  differing  principle  which  became  associated  with 
the  dominant  principle  of  election. 

Another  idea,  another  element,  had  also  already  pene- 
trated into  barbaric  royalty:  this  was  the  religious  element. 
We  find  among  some  of  the  barbarous  nations,  among  the 
Ooths,  for  example,  that  the  families  of  their  kings  de- 
scended from  the  families  of  their  gods,  or  from  those  heroes 
of  whom  they  had  made,  gods,  such  as  Odin.  This  is  the 
situation  of  the  kings  of  Homer,  who  sprang  from  gods  or 
demi-gods,  and  by  reason  of  this  title  were  the  objects  of  a 
kind  of  religious  veneration,  despite  their  limited  power. 

Such,  in  the  fifth  century,  was  barbaric  royalty,  already 
varying  and  fluctuating,  although  its  primitive  principle 
still  dominated. 

I  take  imperial,  Roman  royalty;  this  is  a  totally  different 
thing;  it  is  the  personification  of  the  state,  the  heir  of  the 
sovereignty  and  majesty  of  the  Roman  people.  Consider 
the  royalty  of  Augustus  and  Tiberius;  the  emperor  is  the 
representative  of  the  senate,  the  comitia,  and  the  whole 
republic;  he  succeeded  them,  and  they  are  summed  up  in 
his    person.      Who    woulc?    not    recognize    this    in    the 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  205 

modesty  of  language  of  the  first  emperors;  of  those,  at 
least,  who  were  men  of  sense,  and  understood  their  situa- 
tion? They  felt  themselves  in  the  presence  of  the  late 
sovereign  people  who  had  abdicated  in  their  favor;  they 
addressed  them  as  their  representatives  and  ministers. 
But,  in  fact,  they  exercised  the  whole  power  of  the  people, 
and  that  with  the  most  formidable  intensity.  It  is  easy 
for  us  to  understand  such  a  transformation;  we  have  our- 
selves witnessed  it;  we  have  seen  the  sovereignty  pass  from 
the  people  to  a  man;  that  is  the  history  of  Napoleon.  He 
also  was  the  personification  of  the  sovereign  people;  he  un- 
ceasingly repeated  to  it,  ^^  Who  like  me  has  been  elected 
by  eighteen  millions  of  men?  Who  like  me  is  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  people  RepuUique  Frangaise  f  And  when 
upon  one  side  of  his  coinage  we  read.  The  French  RepuhUc, 
and  upon  the  other.  Napoleon,  Em'pereur,  what  does  this 
mean,  if  not  the  fact  which  I  have  described,  the  people 
become  king? 

Such  was  the  fundamental  character  of  imperial  royalty, 
which  it  preserved  for  the  three  first  centuries  of  the  em- 
pire; it  was  not  till  Diocletian  that  it  took  its  definitive  and 
complete  form.  It  was  then,  however,  upon  the  point  of 
undergoing  a  great  change;  a  new  royalty  had  almost 
appeared.  Christianity  labored  for  three  centuries  to  in- 
troduce the  religious  element  into  society.  It  was  under 
Constantino  that  it  met  w^ith  success,  not  in  making  it 
the  prevalent  faot,  but  in  making  it  play  an  important! 
part.  Here  royalty  presents  itself  under  a  different 
aspect;  its  grigin  is  not  earthly;  the  prince  is  not  the 
representative  of  the  public  sovereignty;  he  is  the  image  of 
God,  his  representative  and  delegate.  Power  came  down 
to  him  from  above,  while  in  imperial  royalty  it  came 
from  below.  These  are  two  utterly  different  situa- 
tions, and  have  entirely  different  results.  The  rights  of 
liberty,  political  guarantees  are  difficult  to  combine  with 


206  HISTORY  OF 

the  principle  of  religious  royalty;  but  the  principle  itseli 
is  elevated,  moral  and  salutary.  Let  us  see  the  idea  which 
was  formed  of  the  prince  in  the  seventh  century  in  the 
system  of  religious  royalty.  I  take  it  from  the  canons  of 
the  councils  of  Toledo. 

*^The  king  is  called  king  {rex)  because  he  governs 
justly  (rede).  If  he  act  with  justice  {rede),  he  legiti- 
mately possesses  the  name  of  king;  if  he  act  with  injustice 
he  miserably  loses  it.  Our  fathers,  therefore,  said  with 
good  reason:  Rex  ejus,  eris  si  reda  facts,  si  autem  non 
fads,  non  eris.  The  two  principal  royal  virtues  are  justice 
and  truth  (science  of  the  reason). 

'^  The  royal  power  is  bound,  like  the  people,  to  respect 
the  laws  .  .  .  Obedience  to  the  will  of  Heaven,  gives 
to  us  and  to  our  subjects  wise  laws  which  our  greatness 
and  that  of  our  successors  is  bound  to  obey,  as  well  as  the 
whole  population  of  our  kingdom.     .     .     . 

'^God,  the  creator  of  all  things,  in  disposing  the 
structure  of  the  human  body,  has  raised  the  head  on  high 
and  has  willed  that  the  nerves  of  all  the  members  should 
proceed  therefrom.  And  he  has  placed  in  the  head  the 
torch  of  the  eyes,  to  the  end  that  from  thence  may  be 
viewed  all  things  that  might  be  prejudicial.  He  has 
established  the  power  of  intellect,  charging  it  to  goverp 
all  the  members  and  wisely  to  regulate  their  action. 
.  .  .  It  is  first  necessary,  then,  to  regulate  what  relates 
to  princes,  to  watch  over  their  safety,  and  to  protect  their 
life,  and  then  to  order  what  relates  to  the  people;  so  that 
in  guaranteeing,  as  is  fitting,  the  safety  of  kings,  they  at 
the  same  time  guarantee,  and  more  effectually,  that  of  the 
people.^'* 

But,  in  the  system  of  religious  royalty,  another  element, 
quite  different  from  that  of  royalty  itself,  almost  always 

*  Forum  Judieum,  i.  lib.  2;  tit.  i.  1.  2,  1.  4. 


CIVILIZATION- m  EUROPE.  207 

introduced  itself.  A  new  power  took  its  place  by  the  side 
of  it,  a  power  nearer  to  God,  to  the  source  whence  royalty 
emanates,  than  royalty  itself:  this  was  the  clergy,  the 
ecclesiastical  power  which  interposed  itself  between  God 
and  kings  and  between  kings  and  the  people;  so  that 
royalty,  the  image  of  divinity,  ran  a  chance  of  falling  to 
the  rank  of  an  instrument  of  the  human  interpreters  of 
the  divine  will.  This  was  a  new  cause  of  diversity  in  tho 
destinies  and  effects  of  the  institution. 

Here,  then,  we  see,  what  in  the  fifth  century  were  the 
various  royalties  which  manifested  themselves  upon  the 
ruins  of  the  Eoman  Empire:  the  barbaric  royalty,  the 
imperial  royalty  and  the  rising  religious  royalty.  Their 
fortunes  were  as  various  as  their  principles. 

In  France,  under  the  first  race,  barbaric  royalty  pre- 
vailed; there  were  many  attempts  of  the  clergy  to  impress 
upon  it  the  imperial  or  religious  character;  but  election  in 
the  royal  family,  with  some  mixture  of  inheritance  and 
religious  ideas,  remained  dominant.  In  Italy,  among  the 
Ostrogoths,  imperial  royalty  superseded  the  barbarian 
customs.  Theodoric  asserted  himself  the  successor  of  the 
emperors.  You  need  only  read  Cassiodorus,  to  acknowl- 
edge this  character  of  his  government. 

In  Spain,  royalty  appeared  more  religious  than  else- 
where; as  the  councils  of  Toledo  were,  I  will  not  say  the 
masters,  but  the  influencing  power,  the  religious  character 
dominated,  if  not  in  the  government,  properly  so-called,  of 
the  Visigoth  kings  at  least,  in  the  laws  with  which  the 
clergy  inspired  them  and  the  language  which  it  made  them 
speak. 

In  England,  among  the  Saxons,  barbarian  manners  sub- 
sisted almost  entire.  The  kingdoms  of  the  heptarchy  were 
merely  the  domains  of  various  bands,  having  each  its  chief. 
The  military  election  is  more  evident  there  than  elsewhere. 
Anglo-Saxon  royalty  is  the  most  perfect  type  of  barbaric 
royalty. 


208  HISTORY  OF 

Thus  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century  three  kinds 
of  royalty  manifested  themselves  at  the  same  time  in 
general  facts;  one  or  other  of  them  prevailed,  according  to 
circumstances,  in  each  of  the  different  states  of  Europe. 

The  chaos  was  such  at  this  epoch  that  nothing  universal 
or  permanent  could  be  established;  and,  from  one  vicissi- 
tude to  another,  we  arrive  at  ilie  eighth  century,  without 
royalty  having  anywhere  taken  a  definitive  character. 
Toward  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century,  with  the 
triumph  of  the  second  race  of  the  Frank  kings,  events 
generalized  themselves  and  became  clearer;  as  they  were 
accomplished  upon  a  greater  scale  they  were  better  under- 
stood and  led  to  more  results.  You  will  shortly  see  the 
different  royalties  distinctly  succeed  and  combine  with  each 
other. 

At  the  time  when  the  Carlovingians  replace  the  Merovin- 
gians, a  return  of  barbaric  royalty  is  visible;  election  again 
appears.  Pepin  causes  himself  to  be  elected  at  Soissons. 
When  the  first  Carlovingians  give  the  kingdoms  to  their 
sons,  they  take  care  to  have  them  accepted  by  the  chief 
persons  in  the  states  assigned  them;  when  they  make  a 
partition,  they  wish  it  to  be  sanctioned  in  the  national 
assemblies.  In  a  word,  the  elective  principle,  under  the 
form  of  public  acceptation,  reassumes  some  reality.  You 
bear  in  mind  that  this  change  of  dynasty  was  like  a  new 
invasion  of  the  Germans  in  the  west  of  Europe  and  brought 
back  some  shadow  of  their  ancient  institutions  and 
manners. 

At  the  same  time  we  see  the  religious  principle  introduced 
more  clearly  into  royalty,  and  playing  therein  a  more  im- 
portant part.  Pepin  was  acknowledged  and  crowned  by 
the  pope.  He  had  need  of  religious  sanction;  it  had  already 
a  great  power,  and  he  courted  it.  Charlemange  took  the 
same  precaution;  religious  royalty  was  developing.  Still 
under  Charlemange  this  character  did  not  dominate;  im- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  209 

perial  royalty  was  evidently  what  he  attempted  to  resusci- 
tate. Although  he  closely  allied  himself  to  the  clergy,  and 
made  use  of  them,  he  was  not  their  instrument.  The  idea 
of  a  great  state,  of  a  great  political  unity,  the  resurrection 
of  the  Eoman  Empire,  was  the  favorite  idea,  the  dream  of 
Chariemange^s  reign.  He  died,  and  was  succeeded  by 
Louis  le  Debonnaire.  Every  one  knows  what  character  the 
royal  power  instantly  assumed;  the  king  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  clergy,  who  censured,  deposed,  re-established, 
and  governed  him;  religious  royalty,  late  subordinate, 
seemed  on  the  point  of  being  established. 

Thus,  from  the  middle  of  the  eighth  to  the  middle  of  the 
ninth  century,  the  diversity  of  three  kinds  of  royalty  mani- 
fested itself  in  important,  closely  connected,  and  palpable 
events. 

After  the  death  of  Louis  le  Debonnaire,  in  the  dissolu- 
tion into  which  Europe  fell,  the  three  species  of  royalty 
disappeared  almost  simultaneously;  all  became  confusion. 
After  some  time,  when  the  feudal  system  prevailed,  a 
fourth  royalty  presented  itself,  different  from  any  that  we 
have  yet  seen;  this  was  feudal  royalty.  This  is  confused, 
and  very  difhcult  to  define.  It  has  been  said  that  the  king 
in  the  feudal  system  was  sovereign  of  sovereigns,  lord  of 
lords,  that  he  held  by  sure  ties,  from  one  class  to  another, 
the  entire  society;  that  in  calling  around  him  his  vassals, 
then  the  vassals  of  his  vassals,  he  called  the  whole  nation, 
and  truly  showed  himself  a  king.  I  do  not  deny  that  this 
was  the  theory  of  feudal  royalty;  but  it  is  a  mere  theory, 
which  has  never  governed  facts.  That  general  influence 
of  the  king  by  the  means  of  an  hierarchical  organization, 
those  ties  which  united  royalty  to  the  entire  feudal  society, 
are  the  dreams  of  publicists.  In  fact,  the  greater  part  of 
the  feudal  lords  were  at  this  epoch  entirely  independent  of 
royalty;  a  large  number  scarcely  knew  the  name,  and  had 
little  or  no  connection  with  it.     All  the  sovereignties  were 


210  BISTORT  OB 

local  and  independent:  the  title  of  king  borne  by  one  ol 
the  feudal  lords  expressed  rather  a  remembrance  than  a 
fact. 

This  was  the  state  of  royalty  during  the  course  of  the 
tenth  and  eleventh  centuries.  In  the  twelfth,  with  the 
reign  of  Louis  le  G.ros,  the  aspect  of  things  began  to 
change.  We  more  often  find  the  king  spoken  of;  his 
influence  penetrated  into  places  where  hitherto  he  had 
never  made  way;  his  part  in  society  became  more  active. 
If  we  seek  by  what  title,  we  shall  recognize  none  of  the 
titles  of  which  royalty  had  hitherto  been  accustomed  to 
avail  itself.  It  was  not  as  the  heir  of  the  emperors,  or  by 
the  title  of  imperial  royalty,  that  it  aggrandized  itself  and 
assumed  more  coherence;  nor  was  it  in  virtue  of  election, 
nor  as  the  emanation  of  divine  power.  All  trace  of  elec- 
tion had  disappeared,  the  hereditary  principle  of  succes- 
sion had  become  definitively  established;  and  although 
religion  sanctioned  the  accession  of  kings,  the  minds  of 
men  did  not  appear  at  all  engrossed  with  the  religious 
character  of  the  royalty  of  Louis  le  Gros.  A  new  element, 
a  character  hitherto  unknown,  produced  itself  in  royalty; 
a  new  royalty  commenced. 

I  need  not  repeat  that  society  was  at  this  epoch  in  a  pro- 
digious disorder,  a  prey  to  unceasing  violence.  Society 
had  in  itself  no  means  of  striving  against  this  deplorable 
state  of  regaining  any  regularity  or  unity.  The  feudal 
institutions,  those  parliaments  of  barons,  those  seigneurial 
courts,  all  those  forms  under  which,  in  modern  times,  feu- 
dalism has  been  represented  as  a  systematic  and  organized 
regime,  all  this  was  devoid  of  reality,  of  power;  there  was 
nothing  there  which  could  re-establish  order  or  justice;  so 
that,  amid  this  social  desolation,  none  knew  to  whom  to 
have  recourse  for  the  reparation  of  any  great  injustice,  or 
to  remedy  any  great  evil,  or  in  any  way  to  constitute  any 
thing  resembling  a  state.     The  name  of  king  remained;  a 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  211 

lord  bore  it,  and  some  few  addressed  themselves  to  him.  Th6 
various  titles  under  which  royalty  had  hitherto  presented 
itself,  although  they  did  not  exercise  any  great  control, 
were  still  present  to  many  minds,  and  on  some  occasions 
were  recognized.  It  sometimes  happened  that  they  had 
recourse  to  the  king  to  repress  any  scandalous  violence,  or 
to  re-establish  something  like  order,  in  any  place  near  to 
his  residence,  or  to  terminate  any  difference  which  had 
long  existed;  he  was  sometimes  called  upon  to  interfere  in 
matters  not  strictly  within  his  jurisdiction;  he  interfered 
as  the  protector  of  public  order,  as  arbitrator  and  redresser 
of  wrongs.  The  moral  authority  which  remained  attached 
to  his  name  by  degrees  attracted  to  him  this  power. 

Such  is  the  character  which  royalty  begun  to  take  under 
Louis  le  Gros,  and  under  the  administration  of  Suger. 
Then,  for  the  first  time,  we  see  in  the  minds  of  men  the 
idea,  although  very  incomplete,  confused  and  weak,  of  a 
public  power,  foreign  to  the  powers  which  possessed 
society,  called  to  render  justice  to  those  who  were  unable 
to  obtain  it  by  ordinary  means,  capable  of  establishing,  or, 
at  least,  of  commanding  order;  the  idea  of  a  great  magis- 
trate, whose  essential  character  was  that  of  maintaining  or 
re-establishing  peace,  of  protecting  the  weak,  and  of  end- 
ing differences  which  none  others  could  decide.  This  is 
the  entirely  new  character  under  which,  dating  from  the 
twelfth  century,  royalty  presented  itself  in  Europe,  and 
especially  in  France.  It  was  neither  as  a  barbarous  royalty, 
a  religious  royality,  nor  as  an  imperial  royalty,  that  it 
exercised  its  empire;  it  possessed  only  a  limited,  incomplete 
and  accidental  power;  the  power,  as  it  were  (I  know  of  no 
expression  more  exact),  of  a  great  justice  of  peace  for  the 
whole  nation. 

This  is  the  true  origin  of  modern  royalty;  this,  so  to 
speak,  is  its  vital  principle;  that  which  has  been  developed 
in  the  course  of  its  career,  and  which,  I  do  not  hesitate  Id 


212  HISTORY  OF 

saying,  has  brought  about  its  success.  At  the  difterent 
epochs  of  history,  we  see  the  diiferent  characters  of  royalty 
reappear;  we  see  the  various  royalties  which  I  have 
described  attempting  by  turns  to  regain  the  preponderance. 
Thus  the  clergy  has  always  preached  religious  royalty;  jur- 
isconsults labored  to  resuscitate  imperial  royalty;  and  the 
nobles  have  sometimes  wished  to  revive  elective  royalty,  or 
the  feudal.  And  not  only  have  the  clergy,  jurisconsults 
and  nobility  striven  to  make  dominant  in  royalty  such  or 
such  a  character;  it  has  itself  made  them  all  subservient  to 
the  aggrandizement  of  its  power;  kings  have  sometimes 
represented  themselves  as  the  delegates  of  God,  some- 
times as  the  successors  of  the  emperors,  according  to  the 
need  or  inclination  of  the  moment;  they  have  illegitimately 
availed  themselves  of  these  various  titles,  but  none  of  them 
has  been  the  veritable  title  of  modern  royalty,  or  the  source 
of  its  preponderating  influence.  It  is,  I  repeat,  as  the  de- 
positary and  protector  of  public  order,  of  universal  justice 
and  common  interest — it  is  under  the  aspect  of  great 
magistracy,  the  centre  and  union  of  society — that  it 
has  shown  itself  to  the  eyes  of  the  people,  and  has  appro- 
priated their  strength  by  obtaining  their  adhesion. 

You  will  see,  as  we  advance;  this  characteristic  of  modern 
European  royalty,  which  commenced  at  the  twelfth  cent- 
ury, under  the  reign  of  Louis  le  Gros,  strengthen  and  de- 
velop itself,  and  became,  so  to  speak,  its  political  physiog- 
nomy. It  is  through  it  that  royalty  has  contributed  to  the 
great  result  which  characterizes  European  societies  in  the 
present  day,  namely,  the  reduction  of  all  social  elements 
into  two,  the  government  and  the  country. 

Thus,  at  the  termination  of  the  crusades,  Europe  entered 
the  path  which  was  to  conduct  it  to  its  present  state;  and 
royalty  took  its  appropriate  part  in  the  great  transforma- 
tion. In  our  next  lecture  we  shall  study  the  different 
attempts  made  at  political  organization,  from  the  twelfth 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  213 

to  the  sixteenth  eenturj,  with  a  view  to  maintain,  by  regu- 
lating it,  the  order,  then  almost  in  ruin.  We  shall  con- 
sider the  efforts  of  feudalism,  of  the  church,  and  even  of 
the  boroughs,  to  constitute  society  after  its  ancient  prin- 
ciples, and  under  its  primitive  forms,  and  thus  defend 
themselves  against  the  general  metamorphosis  which  was 
in  preparation. 


Z14  MISTOBT  OS 


TENTH    LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Attempts  to  reconcile  the  various  social  tlfi- 
ments  of  modern  Europe,  and  to  make  them  live  and  act  ia 
common,  in  one  society,  and  under  one  central  power — 1st.  At- 
tempt at  theocratical  organization — Why  it  failed — Four  princi 
pal  obstacles — Faults  of  Gregory  VII — Reaction  against  the 
domination  of  the  church — On  the  part  of  the  people — On  the 
part  of  the  sovereigns — 2d.  Attempt  at  republican  organiza- 
tion— Italian  republics — Their  defects — Towns  in  the  south  ot* 
France — Crusade  of  the  Albigenses — Swiss  confederation — Bor- 
oughs of  Flanders  and  the  Rhine — Hanseatic  league — Struggle 
between  the  feudal  nobility  and  the  boroughs — 3d.  Attempt  at 
a  mixed  organization — States-general  of  France — Cortes  of  Spain 
and  Portugal — English  parliament — Peculiar  state  of  Germany- 
Ill  success  of  all  their  attempts — ^From  what  causes — General 
tendency  of  Europe. 

I  WISH  to  determine  correctly,  and  at  the  outset,  the 
object  of  this  lecture. 

You  will  recollect  that  one  of  the  first  facts  which  struck 
us  in  the  elements  of  ancient  European  society,  was  their 
diversity,  separation,  and  independence.  The  feudal 
nobility,  clergy  and  boroughs  had  a  situation,  laws  and 
manners,  all  entirely  different;  they  were  so  many  societies 
which  governed  themselves,  each  upon  its  own  account, 
and  by  its  own  rules  and  power.  They  stood  in  relation 
and  came  in  contact,  but  there  was  no  true  union;  they 
did  not  form,  properly  speaking,  a  nation,  a  state. 

The  fusion  of  all  these  societies  into  one  has  been  accom- 
plished. It  is  precisely,  as  you  have  seen,  the  distinctive 
fact,  the  essential  character  of  modern  society.  The  ancient 
social  elements  are  reduced  to  two,  the  government  and 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  215 

the  people;  that  is  to  say,  the  diversity  has  ceased,  that 
similitude  has  led  to  union.  But  before  this  result  was 
consummated,  and  even  with  a  view  to  its  prevention, 
many  efforts  were  tried  to  make  all  particular  societies  live 
and  act  in  common,  without  destroying  their  diversity  or 
independence.  It  was  not  wished  to  strike  a  blow  in  any 
way  prejudicial  to  their  situation,  privileges,  or  special 
nature,  and  yet  to  unite  them  in  a  single  state,  to  form  of 
them  one  nation,  to  rally, tliem  under  one  and  the  same 
government. 

All  these  attempts  failed.  The  result  which  I  have  just 
mentioned,  the  unity  of  modern  society,  proves  their  ill 
success.  Even  in  those  European  countries  where  some 
traces  of  the  ancient  diversitv  of  social  elements,  in  Ger- 
many,  for  example,  where  there  is  still  a  true  feudal  nobility, 
and  a  bourgeoisie;  in  England,  where  a  national  church  is 
in  possession  of  special  revenues  and  a  particular  jurisdic- 
tion, it  is  clear  that  this  pretended  distinct  existence  is  but 
an  appearance,  an  illusion;  that  these  special  societies  are 
politically  confounded  with  the  general  society,  absorbed 
in  the  state,  governed  by  the  public  powers,  in  subjection 
to  the  same  system,  and  carried  away  in  the  current  of  the 
same  ideas  and  the  same  manners.  I  repeat  that,  where 
even  the  form  of  it  still  subsists,  the  indepenr*  ^nce  of  the 
ancient  social  elements  has  no  reality. 

Still  these  attempts  to  make  them  coordinate  without 
transforming  them,  to  attach  them  to  a  national  unity  witu- 
out  abolishing  their  diversity,  have  held  an  important  place 
in  the  history  of  Europe;  they  partly  fill  the  epoch  which 
now  occupies  our  attention,  that  epoch  which  separates 
primitive  from  modern  Europe,  and  in  which  the  meta- 
morphosis of  European  society  was  accomplished.  And 
not  only  has  it  occupied  an  important  place  therein,  but  it 
has  also  greatly  influenced  posterior  events,  and  the  manner 
in  which  the  reduction  of  all  social  elements  into  two,  the 


216  HISTORY  OF 

government  and  the  public,  has  been  brought  about.  It  is, 
therefore,  of  consequence  to  properly  estimate  and  thor- 
oughly understand  all  the  essays  at  political  organization 
which  were  made  from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century, 
to  create  nations  and  governments,  without  destroying  the 
diversity  of  the  secondary  societies  placed  side  by  side. 
Such  will  be  our  business  in  this  lecture. 

It  is  a  difficult  and  even  a  painful  task.  These  attempts  at 
political  organization  have  not  all  been  conceived  and 
directed  with  a  good  intention;  many  of  them  have  had  no 
other  views  but  those  of  selfishness  and  tyranny.  More 
than  one,  however,  has  been  pure  and  disinterested;  more 
than  one  has  really  had  for  its  object  the  moral  and  social 
good  of  mankind.  The  state  of  incoherence,  violence  and 
iniquity,  in  which  society  was  then  placed,  shocked  great 
minds  and  elevated  souls,  and  they  incessantly  sought  the 
means  of  escaping  from  it.  Still,  even  the  best  of  these 
noble  essays  have  failed;  and  so  much  courage  and  virtue, 
so  many  sacrifices  and  efforts,  have  been  lost:  is  it  not  a 
heart-rending  spectacle  ?  There  is  even  one  thing  still 
more  painful,  the  source  of  a  sadness  still  more  bitter:  not 
only  have  these  attempts  at  social  amelioration  failed,  but 
an  enormous  mass  of  error  and  evil  has  been  mixed  up 
therein.  Despite  the  good  intention,  the  greater  part  were 
absurd,  and  indicated  a  profound  ignorance  of  reason,  jus- 
tice, the  rights  of  humanity,  and  the  foundations  of  the 
social  state;  so  that  not  only  has  success  been  wanting  to 
mankind,  but  they  have  merited  their  failures.  We  here, 
then,  have  the  spectacle,  not  only  of  the  hard  destiny  of 
humanity,  but  also  of  its  weakness.  One  may  here  see 
how  the  merest  instalment  of  truth  suffices  so  to  occupy 
the  greatest  minds  that  they  entirely  forget  all  the  rest, 
and  become  blind  to  everything  which  does  not  come  within 
the  straightened  horizon  of  their  ideas;  how  a  mere  glimpse 
of  justice  in  a  cause  suffices  to  make  them  lose  sight  of  all 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  217 

the  injustice  which  it  involves  and  permits.  This  out- 
burst of  the  vices  and  imperfection  of  man,  is,  in  my 
opinion,  a  contemplation  even  more  melancholy  than  the 
misery  of  his  condition;  his  faults  weigh  more  heavily  upon 
me  than  his  sufferings.  The  attempts  which  I  have  to  de- 
scribe exhibit  each  of  these  spectacles.  It  is  necessary  to 
go  through  with  them,  and  to  be  just  toward  those  men, 
fchose  ages,  who  have  so  often  gone  astray,  and  have  so 
cruelly  failed,  and  who,  notwithstanding,  have  displayed 
such  high  virtues,  made  such  noble  efforts,  merited  so 
much  glory! 

The  attempts  at  political  organization,  formed  from  the 
twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century,  are  of  two  kinds:  the 
object  of  the  one  was  to  bring  about  the  predominance  of 
particular  social  element,  whether  the  clergy,  the  feudal 
nobility,  or  the  boroughs;  to  make  all  the  others  subordi- 
nate to  this,  and  on  these  terms  to  establish  unit  v.  The 
other  proposed  to  itself  to  reconcile  all  the  particular  soci- 
eties, and  make  them  act  in  common,  leaving  to  each  its 
liberty,  and  guaranteeing  its  share  of  influence.  The  first 
class  of  these  attempts  is  much  more  liable  to  the  suspicion 
of  selfishness  and  tyranny  than  the  second.  They  have,  in 
fact,  of tener  been  tainted  with  these  vices;  they  are,  indeed, 
by  their  very  nature,  essentially  tyrannical  in  their  means 
of  action.  Some  of  them,  however,  may  have  been — in 
fact,  have  been — conceived  with  pure  views  for  the  good 
and  progress  of  humanity. 

The  first  which  presents  itself  is  the  attempt  at  a  theo- 
cratical  organization — that  is  to  say,  the  design  of  subduing 
the  various  classes  of  society  to  the  principles  and  empire 
of  the  ecclesiastical  society.  You  will  call  to  mind  what  I 
have  said  concerning  the  history  of  the  church.  I  have 
endeavored  to  show  what  principles  have  been  developed 
within  it,  what  was  the  share  of  legitimacy  of  each,  how 
they  were  born  of  the  natural  course  of  events,  what  serv- 


218  HISTORY  OF 

ices  they  have  rendered,  and  what  evil  they  have  brought 
about.  I  have  characterized  the  various  states  into  which 
the  church  passed  from  the  eighth  to  the  twelfth  century; 
I  have  shown  the  state  of  the  imperial  church,  the  bar- 
barian, the  feudal,  and  lastly,  the  theocratical  church.  I 
Suppose  these  recollections  to  be  present  to  your  minds;  I 
shall  now  endeavor  to  indicate  what  the  clergy  did  to 
dominate  in  Europe,  and  why  they  failed. 

The  attempt  at  theocratical  organization  appeared  at  a 
very  early  period,  whether  in  the  acts  of  the  court  of  Kome, 
or  in  those  of  the  clergy  in  general;  it  naturally  resulted 
from  the  political  and  moral  superiority  of  the  church,  but 
we  shall  find  that  it  encountered,  from  the  first,  obstacles 
which,  even  in  its  greatest  vigor,  it  did  not  succeed  in 
removing. 

The  first  was  the  very  nature  of  Christianity.  Wholly 
different  in  this  respect  from  the  greater  number  of  re- 
ligious creeds,  Christianity  was  established  by  persuasion 
alone,  by  simply  moral  means;  it  was  never,  from  the 
time  of  its  birth,  armed  with  force.  In  the  early  ages 
it  conquered  by  the  Word  alone,  and  it  only  conquered 
souls.  Hence  it  happened,  that  even  after  its  triumph, 
wken  the  church  was  in  possession  of  great  riches 
and  consideration,  w^e  never  find  her  invested  with  the 
direct  government  of  society.  Her  origin,  purely  moral, 
and  merely  by  means  of  persuasion,  was  found  impressed 
in  her  condition.  She  had  much  influence,  but  she  had 
no  power.  She  insinuated  herself  into  the  municipal  mag- 
istracies, she  acted  powerfully  upon  the  emperors  and  their 
agents,  but  she  had  not  the  positive  administration  of  pub- 
lic affairs,  the  government,  properly  so  called.  Now  a 
system  of  government — the  theocratical  or  any  other — 
cannot  be  established  in  an  indirect  manner  by  mere  force 
of  influence;  it  is  necessary  to  administer,  command,  receive 
taxes,  dispose  of  revenues,  govern,  in  a  word,  actually  to 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  219 

take  possession  of  society.  When  nations  and  governments 
are  acted  upon  by  persuasion,  much  may  be  effected,  and  a 
great  empire  exercised;  but  there  would  be  no  government, 
no  system  would  be  founded,  the  future  could  not  be  pro- 
vided for.  Such  has  been,  from  its  very  origin,  the  situa- 
tion of  the  Christian  church;  she  has  always  been  at  the 
side  of  the  government  of  society,  but  she  has  never 
removed  it  and  taken  its  place:  a  great  obstacle  which  the 
attempt  at  theocratical  organization  could  not  surmount. 

She  met  at  a  very  early  period  with  a  second  obstacle. 
The  Roman  Empire  once  fallen,  and  the  barbarian  states 
founded,  the  church  found  herself  among  the  conquered. 
The  first  thing  necessary  was  to  escape  this  situation;  the 
work  she  had  to  commence  by  converting  the  conquerors, 
and  thus  raising  herself  to  their  rank.  When  this  task 
was  accomplished,  and  the  church  aspired  to  domination, 
she  encountered  the  pride  and  resistance  of  the  feudal 
nobility.  This  was  a  great  service  rendered  to  Europe  by 
the  feudal  laity:  in  the  eleventh  century  nations  were 
almost  entirely  subjected  to  the  church — sovereigns  were 
scarce  able  to  defend  themselves;  the  feudal  nobility  alone 
never  received  the  yoke  of  the  clergy,  never  humbled  them- 
selves before  it.  One  need  only  recall  the  general  physiog- 
nomy of  the  middle  ages  to  be  struck  by  the  singular  mixt- 
ure of  haughtiness  and  submission,  of  blind  credulity  and 
freedom  of  mind,  in  the  relations  between  the  lay  lords  and 
the  priests:  we  there  see  some  wreck  of  their  primitive  con- 
dition. You  will  call  to  mind  how  I  endeavored  to  repre- 
sent to  you  the  origin  of  feudalism,  its  first  elements,  and 
the  manner  in  which  the  elementary  feudal  society  was 
formed  around  the  habitation  of  the  fief-holder.  I  remarked 
how  in  that  society  the  priest  was  below  the  lord.  Well, 
there  always  remained  in  the  heart  of  the  feudal  nobility  a 
recollection  and  feeling  of  this  situation;  it  always  regarded 
itself,  not  only  as  independent  of  the  church,  but  as  supe- 


220  HISTORY  OF 

rior  to  it,  as  alone  called  to  possess  and  really  govern  the 
country^  it  was  always  willing  to  live  in  concord  with  the 
clergy,  but  so  as  to  guard  its  own  interests,  and  not  to  give 
in  to  those  of  the  clergy.  During  many  centuries  it  was 
the  lay  aristocracy  which  maintained  the  independence  of 
society  with  regard  to  the  church — that  haughtily  defended 
it  when  kings  and  people  were  subdued.  It  was  the  first 
to  oppose,  and  perhaps  contributed  more  than  any  other 
power  to  the  failure  of  the  attempt  at  a  theocratical  organ- 
ization of  society. 

A  third  obstacle  was  likewise  opposed,  of  which  in  gen- 
eral but  little  account  has  been  held,  and  often  even  its 
effects  been  misconstrued. 

Wherever  a  clergy  has  seized  upon  society  and  subjected 
it  to  a  theocratical  organization,  it  is  upon  a  married  clergy 
that  this  empire  has  devolved,  upon  a  body  of  priests  re- 
cruiting themselves  from  their  own  bosom,  and  bringing 
up  their  children  from  their  very  birth  in  and  tor  the  same 
situation.  Examine  history:  look  at  Asia,  Egypt;  all  the  great 
theocracies  are  the  work  of  a  clergy  which  is  a  complete 
society  in  itself,  which  suffices  for  its  own  wants  and  borrows 
nothing  from  without. 

By  the  celibacy  of  priests  the  Christian  clergy  was  in  an 
entirely  different  position;  it  was  obliged,  in  order  to  its 
perpetuation,  to  have  continual  recourse  to  the  laity;  to 
seek  from  abroad,  in  all  social  positions  and  professions,  the 
means  of  duration.  In  vain  did  the  esprit-de-corps  labosj. 
afterward  to  assimilate  these  foreign  elements;  something', 
of  the  origin  of  the  new-comers  always  remained;  burghers 
or  nobles,  they  always  preserved  some  trace  of  their  ancient 
spirit,  their  former  condition.  Doubtless  celibacy.  In  plac- 
ing the  Catholic  clergy  in  an  entirely  special  situation,  for- 
eign to  the  interests  and  common  life  of  mankind,  has  been 
to  it  a  chief  cause  of  isolation;  but  it  has  thus  unceasingly 
forced  it  into  connection  with   lay  society,   in  order  to 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  221 

recruit  and  renew  itself  therefrom,  to  receive  and  undergo 
some  part  of  the  moral  revolutions  which  were  accomplished 
in  it;  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  this  necessity,  con- 
stantly renewing,  has  been  much  more  prejudicial  to  the 
success  of  the  attempt  at  theocratical  organization  than  the 
espr it-de-corps y  strongly  maintained  by  celibacy,  has  been 
able  to  promote  it. 

The  church  finally  encountered,  within  her  own  bosom, 
powerful  adversaries  to  this  attempt.  Much  has  been  said 
concerning  the  unity  of  the  church,  and  it  is  true  she 
has  constantly  aspired  to  it,  and  in  some  respects  has  hap- 
pily attained  it.  But  let  us  not  be  deceived  by  the  pomp 
of  words,  nor  by  that  of  partial  facts.  What  society  has 
presented  more  civil  dissensions,  or  undergone  more  dis- 
memberment than  the  t'lorgy?  What  nation  has  been 
more  divided,  more  disordered,  more  unfixed  than  the 
ecclesiastical  nation?  The  national  churches  of  the  ma- 
jority of  European  countries  almost  incessantly  strug- 
gled against  the  court  Rome;  councils  struggled  against 
popes;  heresies  have  been  innumerable  and  constantly 
renewing,  schisms  always  in  readiness;  nowhere  has 
there  been  such  diversity  of  opinions,  such  fury  in  con- 
test, such  parcelling  out  of  power.  The  internal  life  of 
the  church,  the  divisions  which  have  broken  out  in  it,  the 
revolutions  which  have  agitated  it,  have,  perhaps,  been 
the  greatest  obstacles  to  the  triumph  of  that  organization 
which  she  has  attempted  to  impose  upon  society. 

All  these  obstacles  were  in  action  and  visible  in  the  very 
cradle  of  the  great  attempt  which  we  have  in  review. 
They  did  not,  however,  prevent  its  following  its  course, 
nor  its  being  in  progress  for  many  centuries.  Its  most 
glorious  time,  its  day  of  crisis,  so  to  speak,  was  in  the 
reign  of  Gregory  VII,  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century. 
You  have  already  seen  that  the  dominant  idea  of  Gregory 
ril  ira»  to  subjugate  the  world  to  the  clergy,  the  clergy 


222  HISTORY  OF 

to  the  papal  power,  and  Europe  to  a  vast  and  regulat 
theocracy.  In  this  design,  as  far  as  it  may  be  permitted 
us  to  judge  of  events  at  such  a  distance,  this  great  man 
committed,  in  my  opinion,  two  great  faults;  one  the  fault 
of  a  theorist,  the  other  of  a  revolutionist.  The  first  was 
that  of  ostentatiously  displaying  his  plan,  of  systematically 
proclaiming  his  principles  on  the  nature  and  rights  of 
spiritual  power,  of  drawing  from  them  beforehand,  like  an 
intractable  logician,  the  most  distant  consequences.  He 
thus  menaced  and  attacked  all  the  lay  sovereignties  of 
Europe,  before  being  assured  of  the  means  of  conquering 
them.  Success  in  human  affairs  is  neither  obtained  by 
such  absolute  proceedings,  nor  in  the  name  of  philo- 
sophical argument.  Moreover,  Gregory  VII  fell  into  the 
common  error  of  revolutionists,  that  of  attempting  more 
than  they  can  execute,  and  not  taking  the  possible  as  the 
measure  and  limit  of  their  efforts.  In  order  to  hasten  the 
domination  of  his  ideas,  he  engaged  in  contest  with  the 
empire,  with  all  the  sovereigns  and  with  the  clergy  itself. 
He  hesitated  at  no  consequence,  nor  cared  for  any  interest, 
but  haughtily  proclaimed  that  he  willed  to  reign  over  all 
kingdoms  as  well  as  over  all  minds,  and  thus  raised  against 
him,  on  one  side,  all  the  temporal  powers,  who  saw  them- 
selves in  pressing  danger,  and  on  the  other  the  free-think- 
ers, who  began  to  appear,  and  who  already  dreaded  the 
tyranny  over  thought.  Upon  the  whole,  Gregory  perhaps 
compromised  more  than  he  advanced  the  cause  he  wished  to 
serve. 

It,  however,  continued  to  prosper  during  the  whole  of 
the  twelfth  and  down  to  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century.  This  is  the  time  of  the  greatest  power  and  brill- 
iancy of  the  church,  though  I  do  not  think  it  can  be 
strictly  said  that  she  made  any  great  progress  in  that  epoch. 
Down  to  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Innocent  III  she  rather 
cultivated  than  extended  h^r  ^lory  and  power.     It  was  at 


GIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  223 

the  moment  of  her  greatest  apparent  success  that  a  popular 
reaction  declared  itself  against  her  in  a  large  portion  of 
Europe.  In  the  south  of  France  the  heresy  of  the  Al- 
bigenses  broke  forth,  which  took  possession  of  an  entire, 
numerous  and  powerful  community.  Almost  at  the  same 
time  in  the  north,  in  Flanders,  ideas  and  desires  of  the 
same  nature  appeared.  A  little  later,  in  England,  Wickliff 
attacked  with  talent  the  power  of  the  church,  and  founded 
a  sect  which  will  never  perish.  Sovereigns  did  not  long 
delay  entering  the  same  path  as  the  people.  It  was  at  the 
commencement  of  the  thirteenth  century  that  the  most 
powerful  and  the  ablest  sovereigns  of  Europe,  the  emper- 
ors of  the  house  of  Hohenstaufen,  succumbed  in  their 
struggle  with  the  papacy.  During  this  century  Saint 
Louis,  the  most  pious  of  kings,  proclaimed  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  temporal  power,  and  published  the 
first  Pragmatic  Sanction,  which  iias  been  the  basis  of  all 
others.  At  the  commencement  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury the  quarrel  broke  out  between  Philip  le  Bel 
and  Boniface  VIII;  the  king  of  England,  Edward  I, 
was  not  more  docile  toward  Rome.  At  this  epoch,  it  is 
clear,  the  attempt  at  a  theocratical  organization  has  failed; 
the  church,  henceforth,  will  be  on  the  defensive;  she  will 
no  longer  undertake  to  impose  her  system  upon  Europe; 
her  only  thought  will  be  to  preserve  what  she  has  conquered. 
It  is  from  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century  that  the 
emancipation  of  the  European  lay  society  really  dates;  it 
was  then  that  the  church  ceased  to  pretend  to  the  posses- 
sion of  it. 

She  had  long  before  renounced  this  claim,  in  the  very 
sphere  in  which  she  seemed  to  have  had  the  best  chance  of 
success.  Long  since,  upon  the  very  threshold  of  the 
church,  around  her  very  throne  in  Italy,  theocracy  had 
completely  failed,  and  given  place  to  an  entirely  diffei*ent 
system — to  that  attempt  at  a  democratical  organization,  of 


224  HISTORY  OF 

which  the  Italian  republics  are  the  type,  and  which,  from 
the  eleventh  to  the  sixteenth  century,  played  so  brilliant  a 
part  in  Europe. 

You  recollect  what  I  have  already  related  of  the  history 
of  the  boroughs,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  were 
formed.  In  Italy,  their  destiny  was  more  precocious  and 
powerful  than  anywhere  else;  the  towns  there  were  much 
more  numerous  and  wealthy  than  in  Gaul,  Britain,  or 
Spain;  the  Eoman  municipal  system  remained  more  full  of 
life  and  regular  there. 

The  country  parts  of  Italy,  also,  were  much  less  fit  to 
become  the  habitation  of  their  new  masters,  than  those  of 
the  rest  of  Europe.  They  had  everywhere  been  cleared, 
drained  and  cultivated;  they  were  not  clothed  with  forests; 
here  the  barbarians  were  unable  to  follow  the  hazards  of 
the  chase,  or  to  lead  an  analogous  life  to  that  of  Germany. 
Moreover,  one  part  of  this  territory  did  not  belong  to 
them.  The  south  of  Italy,  the  Campagna  di  Roma  and 
Ravenna,  continued  to  depend  upon  the  Greek  emperors. 
Favored  by  its  distance  from  the  sovereign  and  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  war,  the  republican  system,  at  an  early  period, 
gained  strength  and  developed  itself  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  And  not  only  the  whole  of  Italy  was  not  in  the 
power  of  the  barbarians,  but  even  where  the  barbarians 
did  conquer  it,  they  did  not  remain  in  tranquil  and  defini- 
tive possession.  The  Ostrogoths  were  destroyed  and  driven 
out  by  Belisarius  and  Narses.  The  kingdom  of  the  Lom- 
bards succeeded  no  better  in  establishing  itself.  The 
Franks  destroyed  it;  and,  without  destroying  the  Lombard 
population,  Pepin  and  Charlemagne  judged  it  expedient  to 
form  an  alliance  with  the  ancient  Italian  population,  in 
order  to  struggle  against  the  recently  conquered  Lombards. 
The  barbarians,  then,  were  not  in  Italy,  as  elsewhere,  the 
exclusive  and  undisturbed  masters  of  the  land  and  of 
society.     Hence  it  was,  that  beyond  the  Alps,  only  a  weak. 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  225 

thin  and  scattered  feudalism  was  established.  The  pre- 
ponderance, instead  of  passing  into  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country  parts,  as  had  happened  in  Gaul,  for  example,  con- 
tinued to  appertain  to  the  towns.  When  this  result  be- 
came evident,  a  large  portion  of  the  fief-holders,  either 
from  free-will  or  necessity,  ceased  to  inhabit  the  country, 
and  settled  in  the  cities.  Barbarian  nobles  became  burgh- 
ers. You  may  imagine  what  power  and  superiority  this 
single  fact  gave  the  Italian  towns  as  compared  with  the 
other  boroughs  of  Europe.  What  we  have  remarked  in 
these  latter,  was  the  inferiority  and  timidity  of  the  popula- 
tion. The  burghers  appeared  to  us  like  courageous  freed 
men  painfully  struggling  against  a  master  who  was  always 
at  their  gates.  The  burghers  of  Italy  were  very  different; 
the  conquering  and  the  conquered  population  mixed  within 
the  same  walls;  the  towns  had  not  to  defend  themselves 
from  a  neighboring  master;  their  inhabitants  were  citizens, 
from  all  time  free,  at  least  the  majority  of  them,  who  de- 
iended  their  independence  and  their  rights  against  distant 
and  foreign  sovereigns,  at  one  time  against  the  Frank 
kings,  at  another  against  the  emperors  of  Germany. 
Hence,  the  immense  and  early  superiority  of  the  towns  of 
Italy:  while  elsewhere  even  the  poorest  boroughs  were 
formed  with  infinite  trouble,  here  we  see  republics.  States 
arise. 

Thus  is  explained  the  success  of  the  attempt  at  repub- 
lican organization  in  this  part  of  Europe.  It  subdued 
feudalism  at  a  very  early  period,  and  became  the  dominant 
form  of  society.  But  it  was  little  calculated  to  spread  or 
perpetuate  itself;  it  contained  but  few  germs  of  ameliora- 
tion, the  necessary  condition  to  extension  and  duration. 

When  we  examine  the  history  of  the  republics  of  Italy, 
from  the  eleventh  to  the  fifteenth  century,  we  are  struck 
with  two  apparently  contradictory  yet  incontestable  facts. 
We  find  an  admirable  development  of  courage,  activity  and 


226  HISTORY  OF 

genius,  and  in  consequence  great  prosperity;  there  is  there 
a  movement  and  liberty  which  is  wanting  to  the  rest  of 
Europe.  Let  us  ask,  what  was  the  real  condition  of  the 
inhabitants,  how  their  life  was  passed,  what  was  their  share 
of  happiness?  Here  the  aspect  changes;  no  history  can  be 
more  melancholy  and  gloomy.  There  is,  perhaps,  no 
epoch  or  country  in  which  the  position  of  man  appears  to 
have  been  more  agitated,  subject  to  more  deplorable  mis- 
chances, or  where  we  meet  with  more  dissensions,  crimes 
and  misfortunes.  Another  fact  is  manifest  at  the  same 
time;  in  the  political  system  of  the  greater  part  of  the 
republics  liberty  continually  diminished.  The  want  of 
security  was  such  that  the  factions  were  inevitably  forced 
to  seek  refuge  in  a  system  less  tempestuous  though  less 
popular  than  that  with  which  the  state  had  commenced. 
Take  the  history  of  Florence,  Venice,  Genoa,  Milan,  Pisa; 
you  will  everywhere  see  that  the  general  course  of  events, 
instead  of  developing  liberty,  and  enlarging  the  circle  of 
institutions,  tends  to  contract  it,  and  to  concenter  the 
power  within  the  hands  of  a  small  number  of  men.  In  a 
word,  in  these  republics,  so  energetic,  brilliant  and  wealthy, 
two  things  were  wanting:  security  of  life,  the  first  condi- 
tion of  a  social  state,  and  the  progress  of  institutions. 

Thence  a  new  evil,  which  did  not  allow  of  the  extension 
of  the  attempt  at  republican  organization.  It  was  from 
without,  from  foreign  sovereigns,  that  the  greatest  danger 
was  threatened  to  Italy.  Yet  this  danger  had  never  the 
effect  of  reconciling  these  republics  and  making  them  act 
in  concert;  they  would  never  resist  in  common  a  common 
enemy.  Many  of  the  most  enlightened  Italians,  accord- 
ingly, the  best  patriots  of  our  time,  deplore  the  republican 
system  of  Italy  in  the  middle  ages  as  the  real  cause  of  its 
never  having  become  a  nation.  It  was  parcelled  out,  they 
say,  into  a  multitude  of  petty  people,  too  much  under  the 
control  of  their  passions  to  allow  of  their  confederating,  or 


OIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE.  227 

constituting  themselves  a  state.  They  regret  that  their 
country,  like  the  rest  of  Europe,  has  not  passed  through  a 
despotic  centralization  which  would  have  formed  it  into  a 
nation,  and  have  rendered  it  independent  of  foreigners. 
It  seems,  then,  that  the  republican  organization,  even 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  did  not  contain 
within  itself  at  this  epoch  the  principle  of  progress,  of 
duration,  extension — that  it  had  no  future.  Up  to  a  cer- 
tain point,  one  may  compare  the  organization  of  Italy  in 
the  middle  ages  to  that  of  ancient  Greece.  Greece  also 
was  a  country  full  of  petty  republics,  always  rivals  and 
often  enemies,  and  sometimes  rallying  toward  a  common 
end.  The  advantage  in  this  comparison  is  entirely  with 
Greece.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that,  although  history 
gives  us  many  instances  of  iniquity  in  them,  too,  there  was 
more  order,  security  and  justice  in  the  interior  of  Athens, 
Lacedaemon,  Thebes,  than  in  the  Italian  republics.  Yet 
how  short  was  the  political  existence  of  Greece!  What  a 
principle  of  weakness  existed  in  that  parcelling  out  of 
power  and  territory!  When  Greece  came  in  contact  with 
great  neighboring  states,  with  Macedonia  and  Home,  she 
at  once  succumbed.  These  small  republics,  so  glorious 
and  still  so  flourishing,  could  not  form  a  coalitian  U-t 
defense.  How  much  stronger  was  the  reason  for  the  same 
result  happening  in  Italy,  where  society  and  human  reason 
had  been  so  much  less  developed  and  less  firm  than  among 
the  Greeks. 

If  the  attempt  at  republican  organization  had  so  little 
chance  of  duration  in  Italy  where  it  had  triumphed,  where 
the  feudal  system  had  been  vanquished,  you  may  easily 
conceive  that  it  would  much  sooner  succumb  in  the  other 
parts  of  Europe. 

I  will  rapidly  place  its  destinies  before  you. 

There  was  one  portion  of  Europe  which  bore  a  great 
resemblance  to  Italy;  this  was  the  south  of  France  and  the 


228  BISTORT  OF 

neighboring  Spanish  provinces,  Catalonia,  Navarre  and 
Biscay.  There  Hkewise  the  towns  had  gained  great  devel- 
opment, importance  and  wealth.  Many  of  the  petty  lords 
were  allied  with  the  burghers ;  a  portion  of  the  clergy  had 
likewise  embraced  their  cause ;  in  a  word,  the  country  was 
in  a  situation  remarkably  analogous  to  that  of  Italy. 
Accordingly,  in  the  course  of  the  eleventh  century,  and  at 
the  commencement  of  the  twelfth,  the  towns  of  Provence, 
Languedoc  and  Aquitaine,  aimed  at  a  political  flight,  at 
forming  themselves  into  independent  republics,  just  like 
those  beyond  the  Alps.  But  the  south  of  France  was  in 
contact  with  a  very  strong  feudalism,  that  of  the  north. 
At  this  time  occurred  the  heresy  of  the  Albigenses,  and 
war  broke  out  between  feudal  and  municipal  France.  You 
know  the  history  of  the  crusade  against  the  Albigenses, 
under  Simon  de  Montfort.  This  was  the  contest  of  the 
feudalism  of  the  north  against  the  attempt  at  democratical 
organization  of  the  south.  Despite  the  southern  patriot- 
ism the  north  carried  the  day ;  political  unity  was  wanting 
in  the  south,  and  civilization  was  not  sufficiently  advanced 
for  men  to  supply  its  place  by  concert.  The  attempt  at 
republican  organization  was  put  down,  and  the  crusade 
re-established  the  feudal  system  in  the  south  of  France. 

At  a  later  period,  the  republican  attempt  met  with  better 
success  in  the  mountains  of  Switzerland.  There  the  thea- 
ter was  very  straitened.  They  had  only  to  struggle  against 
a  foriegn  sovereign,  who,  although  of  a  superior  force  to 
the  Swiss,  was  by  no  means  among  the  most  formidable 
sovereigns  of  Europe.  The  struggle  was  courageously  sus- 
tained. The  Swiss  feudal  nobility  allied  themselves  in  a 
great  measure  with  the  towns — a  powerful  succor  which, 
however,  altered  the  nature  of  the  revolution  which  it 
aided,  and  imprinted  upon  it  a  more  aristocratic  and  less 
progressive  character  than  it  seemed  at  first  intended  to 
bear. 


CIVILTZA  TION  IN  EURO? E.  229 

1  now  pass  to  the  north  of  France,  to  the  boroughs  of 
Flanders,  the  banks  of  the  Ehine,  and  the  Hanseatic 
league.  There  the  democratical  organization  triumphed 
fully  in  the  interior  of  the  towns;  yet,  we  perceive,  from  its 
outset,  that  it  was  not  destined  to  extend  itself,  or  to  take 
entire  possession  of  society.  The  boroughs  of  the  north 
were  surrounded  and  oppressed  by  feudalism,  by  lords  and 
sovereigns,  so  that  they  were  constantly  on  the  defensive.  It 
is  clear  that  all  they  did  was  to  defend  themselves  as  well 
as  they  could,  they  essayed  no  conquests.  They  preserved 
their  privileges,  but  remained  shut  up  within  their  own 
walls.  There  the  democraiical  organization  was  confined 
and  stopped  short;  if  we  go  elsewhere  into  the  country  we 
do  not  find  it. 

You  see  what  was  the  state  of  the  republican  attempt. 
Triumphant  in  Italy,  but  with  little  chance  of  success  or 
progress;  vanquished  in  the  south  of  Gaul;  victorious  on  a 
small  scale  in  the  mountains  of  Switzerland;  in  the  north, 
in  the  boroughs  of  Flanders,  the  Rhine  and  the  Hanseatic 
league,  condemned  never  to  pass  beyond  the  town  walls. 
Still,  in  this  position,  evidently  inferior  in  force  to  the 
other  elements  of  society,  it  inspired  the  feudal  nobility 
with  a  prodigious  terror.  The  lords  were  jealous  of  the 
wealth  of  the  boroughs,  and  feared  their  power;  the  demo- 
cratical spirit  penetrated  into  the  rural  districts;  the  insur- 
rections of  the  peasants  became  more  frequent  and 
obstinate.  A  great  coalition  was  formed  among  the  feudal 
nobility  against  the  boroughs,  almost  throughout  Europe. 
The  party  was  unequal;  the  boroughs  were  isolated;  there 
was  no  understanding  or  communication  between  them;  all 
was  local.  There  existed,  indeed,  a  certain  sympathy  be- 
tween the  burghers  of  various  countries.  The  successes  or 
reverses  of  the  towns  in  Flanders  in  the  struggles  with  the 
dukes  of  Burgundy  certainly  excited  a  lively  emotion  in 
the  French  towns.     But  this  emotion  was  transitory  and 


280  HISTOnT  OF 

without  result.  No  tie,  no  real  union,  was  established. 
Xor  did  the  boroughs  lend  strength  to  one  another. 
Feudalism,  then,  had  immense  advantages  over  them. 
But,  itself  divided  and  incoherent,  it  did  not  succeed  in 
destroying  them.  When  the  struggle  had  lasted  a  certain 
time,  when  they  had  acquired  the  conviction  that  a  com- 
plete victory  was  impossible,  it  became  necessary  to 
acknowledge  the  petty  republican  burghers,  to  treat  with 
them,  and  to  receive  them  as  members  of  the  state.  Then 
a  new  order  commenced,  a  new  attempt  at  political  organ- 
ization, that  of  mixed  organization,  the  object  of  which 
was  to  reconcile  all  the  elements  of  society,  the  feudal 
nobility,  the  boroughs,  clergy  and  sovereigns,  and  to  make 
them  live  and  act  together  in  spite  of  their  profound 
hostility. 

All  of  you  know  what  are  the  States-general  in  France, 
the  Cortes  in  Spain  and  Portugal,  the  Parliament  in 
England  and  the  Diets  in  Germany.  You  know,  likewise, 
what  were  the  elements  of  these  various  assemblies.  The 
feudal  nobility,  the  clergy  and  the  boroughs,  collected 
at  them  with  a  view  to  unite  themselves  into  a  single 
society,  into  one  state,  under  one  law  and  one  power. 
They  all,  under  various  names,  have  the  same  tendency  and 
design. 

I  shall  take,  as  the  type  of  this  attempt,  the  fact  which 
is  the  most  interesting  and  the  best  known  to  us,  namely, 
the  States-general  in  France.  I  say  the  best  known  to 
tis;  yet  I  am  convinced  that  the  name  of  States-general 
awakens  in  your  minds  only  vague  and  incomplete  ideas. 
None  of  you  can  say  what  there  waa  fixed  or  regular  in 
the  States-general  of  France,  what  was  the  number  of 
their  members,  what  the  subjects  of  deliberation,  or  what 
the  periods  of  convocation  and  the  duration  of  sessions; 
nothing  is  known  of  these  things;  it  is  impossible  to 
draw  from  history  any  clear,  general,  or  universal  results 


CIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE,  231 

as  to  this  subject.  When  we  examine  closely  the  character 
of  these  assemblies  in  the  history  of  France,  they  look  like 
mere  accidents,  political  last  resource  alike  for  people  and 
kings;  as  a  last  resource  for  kings  when  they  had  no  money, 
and  knew  not  how  to  escape  from  their  embarrassments; 
and  as  a  last  resource  for  the  people  when  the  evil  became 
so  great  that  they  knew  not  what  remedy  to  apply.  The 
nobility  were  present  in  the  States-general;  the  clergy  like- 
wise took  part  in  them;  but  they  came  full  of  indifference, 
for  they  knew  that  this  was  not  their  great  means  of  action, 
that  they  could  not  promote  by  it  the  real  part  they  took  in 
the  government.  The  burghers  themselves  were  scarcely 
more  eager  about  it;  it  was  not  a  right  which  they  took  an 
interest  in  exercising,  but  a  necessity  which  they  tolerated. 
Thus  may  be  seen  the  character  of  the  political  activity  of 
these  assemblies.  They  were  sometimes  utterly  insignifi- 
cant, and  sometimes  terrible.  If  the  king  was  the 
strongest,  their  humility  and  docility  were  carried  to  an 
extreme;  if  the  situation  of  the  crown  was  unfortunate,  if 
it  had  absolute  need  of  the  states,  they  fell  into  faction  and 
became  the  instruments  of  some  aristocratical  intrigue,  or 
some  ambitious  leaders.  In  a  word,  they  were  sometimes 
mere  assemblies  of  notables,  sometimes  regular  conventions. 
Thus  their  works  almost  always  died  with  them;  they 
promised  and  attempted  much,  and  did  nothing.  None  of 
the  great  measures  which  have  really  acted  upon  society  in 
France,  no  important  reform  in  the  government,  the  legis- 
lation or  the  administration,  has  emanated  from  the  States- 
general.  It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  they 
were  without  utility  or  effect;  they  have  had  a  moral  effect, 
of  which  too  little  account  is  generally  taken;  they  hava 
been,  from  one  epoch  to  another,  a  protest  against  political 
servitude,  a  violent  proclamation  of  certain  tutelary  prin- 
ciples; for  example,  that  the  country  has  the  right  to 
impose  taxes,  to  interfere  in  its  own  affairs,  and  to  impose 
ft  responsibility  upon  the  agents  of  power. 


232  HISTORY  OF 

That  these  maxims  have  never  perished  in  France  is  to 
be  attributed  to  the  States-general,  and  it  is  no  small  serv- 
ice to  render  to  a  people,  to  maintain  in  its  manners,  and 
renew  in  its  thoughts  the  remembrances  and  rights  of 
liberty.  The  States-general  have  possessed  this  virtue,  but 
they  have  never  been  a  means  of  government;  they  have 
never  entered  into  the  political  organization;  they  have 
never  attained  the  end  for  which  thev  were  formed,  that  is 
to  say,  the  fusion  into  a  single  body  of  the  various  societies 
which  divided  the  country. 

The  Cortes  of  Spain  and  Portugal  offer  us  the  same 
result.  In  a  thousand  circumstances,  however,  they  are 
different.  The  importance  of  the  Cortes  varies  according 
to  place  and  time;  in  Aragon  and  Biscay,  amid  the  debates 
concerning  the  succession  to  the  crown,  or  the  struggle 
against  the  Moors,  they  were  more  frequently  convoked  and 
more  powerful.  In  certain  Cortes,  for  example,  in  those 
of  Castile  in  1370  and  1373,  the  nobles  and  the  clergy 
were  not  called.  There  is  a  crowd  of  details  which  it  is 
necessary  should  be  taken  into  account,  if  we  look  closely 
into  events.  But  in  the  general  view  to  which  I  am  obliged 
to  confine  myself,  it  may  be  said  of  the  Cortes,  as  of  the 
States-general  of  France,  that  they  have  been  an  accident 
in  history,  and  never  a  system,  political  organization,  or  a 
regular  means  of  government. 

The  destiny  of  England  was  different.  I  shall  not  now 
enter  upon  this  subject  in  detail.  I  propose  to  devote  one 
lecture  especially  to  the  political  life  of  England;  I  shall 
now  merely  say  a  few  words  upon  the  causes  which  have 
imparted  to  it  a  direction  entirely  different  from  that  of  the 
continent. 

And  first,  there  were  no  great  vassals  in  England,  no 
subject  in  a  condition  to  strive  personally  against  royalty. 
The  English  barons  and  great  lords  were  obliged  to  coalesce 
in  order  to  resist  in  common.     Thus  have  prevailed,  in  the 


CIVILIZATION  m  EUROPE.  233 

high  aristocracy,  the  })riiiciple  of  association  and  true 
political  manners.  Moreover,  English  feudalism,  the 
petty  fief-holders,  have  been  gradually  led  by  a  series  of 
events,  which  I  cannot  enumerate  at  present,  to  unite  them- 
selves with  the  burghers,  to  sit  with  them  in  the  House  oi 
Commons,  which  thus  possessed  a  power  superior  to 
that  of  the  continental  assemblies,  a  force  truly  capable 
of  influencing  the  government  of  the  country.  Let  us 
see  what  was  the  state  of  the  British  Parliament  in  the 
fourteenth  century.  The  House  of  Lords  was  the  great 
council  of  the  king,  a  council  actively  associated  in  the 
exercise  of  power.  The  House  of  Commons,  composed 
of  the  deputies  of  the  petty  fief-holders,  and  of  burghers, 
took  scarcely  any  part  in  the  government,  properly  so 
called,  but  it  established  rights,  and  very  energetically 
defended  private  and  local  interests.  The  Parliament, 
considered  as  a  whole,  did  not  yet  govern,  but  it  was  al- 
ready a  regular  institution,  a  means  of  government  adopted 
in  principle,  and  often,  in  fact,  indispensable.  Thus  the 
attempt  at  junction  and  alliance  between  the  various  ele- 
ments of  society,  with  a  view  to  form  of  them  a  single 
political  body,  a  regular  state,  was  successful  in  England^ 
while  it  had  failed  everywhere  on  the  continent. 

I  shall  say  but  a  few  words  as  to  Germany,  and  those 
only  to  indicate  the  dominant  character  of  its  history. 
There  the  attempts  at  fusion,  unity  and  general  political 
organization,  were  followed  with  little  ardor.  The  various 
social  elements  remained  much  more  distinct  and  inde- 
pendent than  in  the  rest  of  Europe.  If  a  proof  is  wanted, 
one  may  be  found  in  modern  times.  Germany  is  the  only 
country  in  which  the  feudal  election  long  took  part  in  the 
creation  of  royalty.  I  do  not  speak  of  Poland,  nor  the 
Sclavonian  nations,  which  entered  at  so  late  an  age  into 
the  system  of  European  civilization.  Germany  is  likewise 
the  only  country  of  Europe  where  ecclesiastical  sovereigns 


234  HISTORY  OIT 

remained;  which  preserved  free  towns,  having  a  true  polit- 
ical existence  and  sovereignty.  It  is  clear  that  the  attempt 
to  combine  in  a  single  society  the  elements  of  primitive 
European  society  has  there  had  much  less  activity  and 
effect  than  elsewhere. 

'  I  have  now  placed  before  you  the  great  essays  at  political 
organization  in  Europe  down  to  the  end  of  the  fourteenth 
century  and  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth.  You  have 
seen  them  all  fail.  I  have  endeavored  to  indicate,  in  pass- 
ing, the  causes  of  this  ill-success;  indeed,  truly  speaking, 
they  are  reduceable  to  one.  Society  was  not  sufficiently 
advanced  for  unity;  everything  was  as  yet  too  local,  too 
special,  too  narrow,  too  various  in  existence,  and  in  men^s 
minds.  There  were  neither  general  interests  nor  general 
opinions  capable  of  controlling  particular  interests  and 
opinions.  The  most  elevated  and  vigorous  minds  had  no 
idea  of  administration,  nor  of  true  political  justice.  It 
was  evidently  necessary  that  a  more  active  and  vigorous 
civilization  should  first  mix,  assimilate,  and,  so  to  speak, 
grind  together  all  these  incoherent  elements;  it  was  first 
necessary  that  a  powerful  centralization  of  interest,  laws, 
manners  and  ideas  should  be  brought  about;  in  a  word,  it 
was  necessary  that  a  public  power  and  public  opinion 
should  arise.  We  have  arrived  at  the  epoch  when  this 
great  work  was  consummated.  Its  first  symptoms,  the 
state  of  mind  and  manners  during  the  course  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  the  tendency  toward  the  formation  of  a 
central  government,  and  a  public  opinion,  will  form  the 
subject  of  our  next  lecture. 


OIYILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  235 


ELEVENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Special  character  of  the  fifteenth  centnry — 
Progressive  centralization  of  nations  and  governments — 1st.  Of 
France — Formation  of  the  national  French  spirit — Government 
of  Louis  XI— 2d.  Of  Spain— 3d.  Of  Germany— 4th.  Of  Eng- 
land— 5th.  Of  Italy — Origin  of  the  external  relations  of  states 
and  of  diplomacy — Movement  in  religious  ideas — Attempt  at 
aristocratical  reform — Council  of  Constance  and  Basle — Attempt 
at  popular  reform — John  Huss — Regeneration  of  literature — Ad- 
miration for  antiquity — Classical  school,  or  free-thinkers — Gen- 
eral activity — Voyages,  discoveries,  inventions — Conclusion. 

We  touch  the  threshold  of  modern  history,  properly  so 
called — the  threshold  of  that  society  which  is  our  own,  of 
which  the  institutions,  opinions  and  manners  were,  forty 
years  ago,  those  of  France,  are  still  those  of  Europe,  and 
still  exercise  so  powerful  an  influence  upon  us,  despite  the 
metamorphosis  brought  about  by  our  revolution.  It  was. 
with  the  sixteenth  century,  as  I  have  already  said,  that 
modern  society  really  commenced.  Before  entering  upon 
it,  recall  to  your  minds,  I  pray  you,  the  roads  over  which 
we  have  passed.  We  have  discovered,  amid  the  ruins  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  all  the  essential  elements  of  the 
Europe  of  the  present  day;  we  have  seen  theai  distinguish 
and  aggrandize  themselves,  each  on  its  own  account,  and 
independently.  We  recognized,  during  the  first  epoch  of 
history,  the  constant  tendency  of  these  elements  to  sepa- 
ration, isolation  and  a  local  and  special  existence.  Scarcely 
was  this  end  obtained — scarcely  had  feudalism,  the  bor- 
oughs and  the  clergy  each  taken  its  distinct  form  and 


236  HISTORY  OF 

place,  than  we  see  them  tending  to  approach  each  other, 
to  reunite,  and  form  themselves  into  a  general  society,  into 
a  nation  and  a  government.  In  order  to  arrive  at  this  result, 
the  various  countries  of  Europe  addressed  themselves  to 
all  the  different  systems  which  co-existed  in  its  bosom; 
they  demanded  the  principle  of  social  unity,  the  political 
and  moral  tie,  from  theocracy,  aristocracy,  democracy  and 
royalty.  Hitherto,  all  these  attempts  had  failed;  no  sys- 
tem or  influence  had  known  how  to  seize  upon  society,  and 
by  its  empire  to  insure  it  a  truly  public  destiny.  We  have 
found  the  cause  of  this  ill  success  in  the  absence  of  uni- 
versal interests  and  ideas.  We  have  seen  that  all  was,  as 
yet,  too  special,  individual  and  local;  that  a  long  and  pow- 
erful labor  of  centralization  was  necessary  to  enable  society 
to  extend  and  cement  itself  at  the  same  time,  to  become  at 
once  great  and  regular — an  end  to  which  it  necessarily 
aspired.  This  was  the  state  in  which  we  left  Europe  at  the 
end  of  the  fourteenth  century. 

She  was  far  from  understanding  her  position,  such  as  I 
have  endeavored  to  place  it  before  you.  She  did  not  know 
distinctly  what  she  wanted  or  what  she  sought;  still  she 
applied  herself  to  the  search  as  if  she  knew.  The  four- 
teenth century  closed.  Europe  entered  naturally,  and,  as 
it  were,  instinctively,  the  path  which  led  to  centralization. 
It  is  the  characteristic  of  the  fifteenth  century  to  have  con- 
stantly tended  to  this  result;  to  have  labored  to  create 
universal  interests  and  ideas,  to  make  the  spirit  of  specialty 
and  locality  disappear,  to  reunite  and  elevate  existences 
and  minds;  in  fine,  to  create  what  had  hitherto  never 
existed  on  a  large  scale,  nations  and  governments.  The 
outbreak  of  this  fact  belongs  to  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth centuries;  it  was  in  the  fifteenth  that  it  was  pre- 
paring. It  is  this  preparation  which  we  have  to  investi- 
gate at  present — this  silent  and  concealed  work  of  central- 
ization, whether  in  social  relations  or  ideas,  a  work  accom- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  237 

plished  by  the  natural  course  of  events,  without  premedita^ 
tion  or  design. 

Thus  man  advances  in  the  execution  of  a  plan  which  he 
has  not  himself  conceived,  or  which,  perhaps,  he  does  not 
even  understand.  He  is  the  intelligent  and  free  artificer 
of  a  work  which  does  not  belong  to  him.  He  does  not 
recognize  or  comprehend  it  until  a  later  period,  when  it 
manifests  itself  outwardly  and  in  realities;  and  even  then  he* 
understands  it  but  very  incompletely.  Yet  it  is  by  him,  it 
is  by  the  development  of  his  intellect  and  his  liberty  that 
it  is  accomplished.  Conceive  a  great  machine,  of  which 
the  idea  resides  in  a  single  mind,  and  of  which  the  differ- 
ent pieces  are  confided  to  different  workmen,  who  are  scat- 
tered, and  are  strangers  to  one  another;  none  of  them 
knowing  the  work  as  a  whole,  or  the  definitive  and  general 
result  to  which  it  concurs,  yet  each  executing  with  intelli- 
gence and  liberty,  by  rational  and  voluntary  acts,  that  of 
which  he  has  the  charge.  So  is  the  plan  of  Providence 
upon  the  world  executed  by  the  hand  of  mankind;  thus  do 
the  two  facts  which  manifest  themselves  in  the  history  of 
civilization  co-exist;  on  the  one  hand,  its  fatality,  that 
which  escapes  science  and  the  human  will — and  on  the 
other,  the  part  played  therein  by  the  liberty  and  intellect  of 
man,  that  which  he  infuses  of  his  own  will  by  his  own 
thought  and  inclination. 

In  order  properly  to  comprehend  the  fifteenth  century — 
to  obtain  a  clear  and  exact  idea  of<this  prelude,  as  it  were, 
of  modern  society — we  will  distinguish  the  different  classes 
of  facts.  We  will  first  examine  the  political  facts,  the 
changes  which  have  tended  to  form  both  nations  and  gov- 
ernments. Thence  we  will  pass  to  moral  facts;  we  will 
observe  the  changes  which  have  been  produced  in  ideas  and 
manners,  and  we  will  thence  deduce  what  general  opinions 
were  in  preparation.  As  regards  political  facts,  in  order 
to  proceed  simply  and  quickly,  I  will  run  over  all  the  great 


238  HISTORY  OF 

countries  of  Europe,  and  show  you  what  the  fifteenth 
century  made  of  them — it  what  state  it  found  and  left 
them. 

I  shall  commence  with  France.  The  last  half  of  the 
fourteenth  century  and  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  were, 
as  you  know,  the  times  of  great  national  wars — the  wars 
against  the  English.  It  was  the  epoch  of  the  struggle  for 
the  independence  of  France  and  the  French  name  against 
a  foreign  dominion.  A  glance  at  history  will  show  with 
what  ardor,  despite  a  multitude  of  dissensions  and  treasons, 
all  classes  of  society  in  France  concurred  in  this  struggle; 
what  patriotism  took  possession  of  the  feudal  nobility,  the 
burghers  and  even  peasants.  If  there  were  nothing  else  to 
show  the  popular  character  of  the  event  than  the  history  of 
Joan  of  Arc,  it  would  be  more  than  sufficient  proof.  Joan 
of  Arc  sprung  from  the  people.  It  was  by  the  sentiments, 
creed  and  passions  of  the  people  that  she  was  inspired 
and  sustained.  She  was  looked  upon  with  distrust,  scorn 
and  even  enmity  by  the  people  of  the  court  and  the 
chiefs  of  the  army;  but  she  had  the  soldiers  and  the  people 
6ver  on  her  side.  It  was  the  peasants  of  Lorraine  who 
sent  her  to  the  succor  of  the  burghers  of  Orleans.  No 
event  has  more  strikingly  shown  the  popular  character  of 
this  war,  and  the  feeling  with  which  the  whole  country 
regarded  it. 

Thus  began  the  formation  of  French  nationality.  Up 
to  the  reign  of  the  Yalois  it  was  the  feudal  character  which 
dominated  in  France;  the  French  nation,  the  French 
mind,  French  patriotism,  did  not  as  yet  exist.  With  the 
Valois  commenced  France,  properly  so  called.  It  was  in 
th6  course  of  their  wars,  through  the  phases  of  their  des- 
tiny, that  the  nobility,  the  burghers  and  the  peasants,  were 
for  the  first  time  united  by  a  moral  tie,  by  the  tie  of 
a  common  name,  a  common  honor  and  a  common  desire 
to  conquer  the  enemy.     But  expect  not  to  find  there  as 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  239 

yet  any  true  political  spirit,  nor  any  great  purpose  of  unity 
in  the  government  and  institutions,  such  as  we  conceivQ 
them  at  the  present  day.  Unity  in  the  France  of  this 
epoch  resided  in  its  name,  its  national  honor,  and  in  the 
existence  of  a  national  royalty,  whatever  it  might  be,  pro- 
vided the  foreigner  did  not  appear  therein.  It  is  in  this 
way  that  the  struggle  against  the  English  powerfully  con- 
tributed to  the  formation  of  the  French  nation,  to  impel  it 
toward  unity.  At  the  same  time  that  France  was  thus 
morally  forming  herself,  and  the  national  spirit  was  being 
developed,  she  was  also  forming  herself  materially,  so  to 
speak — that  is  to  say,  her  territory  was  being  regulated, 
extended,  strengthened.  This  was  the  period  of  the  incor- 
poration of  the  greater  part  of  the  provinces  which  have 
become  France.  Under  Charles  VII,  after  the  expulsion 
of  the  English,  almost  all  the  provinces  which  they  had 
occupied,  Normandy,  Angoumois,  Touraine,  Poitou,  Sain- 
tonge,  etc.,  became  definitively  French.  Under  Louis 
XI,  ten  provinces,  three  of  which  were  afterward  lost  and 
regained,  were  united  to  France;  namely,  Roussillon  and 
Cerdagne,  Burgundy,  Franche-Comte,  Picardy,  Artois, 
Provence,  Maine,  Anjou  and  Perche.  Under  Charles  VIII 
and  Louis  XII,  the  successive  marriages  of  Anne  with  these 
two  kings  brought  us  Brittany.  Thus,  at  the  same  epoch, 
and  during  the  course  of  the  same  events,  the  national  ter- 
ritory and  mind  were  forming  together;  moral  and  material 
France  conjointly  acquired  strength  and  unity. 

Let  us  pass  from  the  nation  to*  the  government;  we  shall 
see  the  accomplishment  of  similar  facts,  shall  move  toward 
the  same  result.  Never  had  the  French  government  been 
more  devoid  of  unity,  connection  and  strength  than  under 
the  reign  of  Charles  VI  and  during  the  first  part  of 
that  of  Charles  VII.  At  the  end  of  this  latter  reign  the 
aspect  of  all  things  changed.  There  was  evidently  a 
strengthening,  extending  and  organizing  of  power;  all  the 


240  HISTORY  OF 

great  means  of  government — taxes,  military  force,  law — 
were  created  upon  a  great  scale  and  with  some  uniformit3% 
This  was  the  time  of  the  formation  of  standing  armies — 
free  companies,  cavalry — and  free  archers,  infantry.  By 
«;nese  companies  Charles  VII  re-established  some  order  in 
those  provinces  which  had  been  desolated  by  the  disorders 
and  exactions  of  the  soldiery,  even  after  war  had  ceased. 
All  contemporary  historians  speak  with  astonishment  of 
the  marvelous  effects  of  the  free  companies.  It  was  at  the 
same  epoch  that  the  poll-tax,  one  of  the  principal  revenues 
of  the  kingdom,  became  perpetual;  a  serious  blow  to  the 
liberty  of  the  people,  but  which  powerfully  contributed  to 
the  regularity  and  strength  of  the  government.  At  this 
time,  too,  the  great  instrument  of  power,  the  administra- 
tion of  justice,  was  extended  and  organized;  parliaments 
multiplied.  There  were  five  new  parliaments  constituted 
within  a  very  short  period  of  time:  under  Louis  XI,  the 
parliament  of  Grenoble  (in  1451),  of  Bordeaux  (in  1462), 
and  of  Dijon  (in  1477);  under  Louis  XII,  the  parliaments  of 
Rouen  (in  1499),  and  of  Aix  (in  1501).  The  parliament  of 
Paris,  also,  at  this  time  greatly  increased  in  importance 
and  firmness,  both  as  regards  the  administration  of  justice 
and  as  charged  with  the  policy  of  its  jurisdiction. 

Thus,  as  regards  military  force,  taxation  and  justice, 
that  is,  in  what  constitutes  its  very  essence,  government  in 
France  in  the  fifteenth  century  acquired  a  character  of 
permanence  and  regularity  hitherto  unknown;  public  power 
definitively  took  the  place  of  the  feudal  powers. 

At  the  same  time  another  and  far  different  change  was 
brought  about;  a  change  which  was  less  visible  and  which 
has  less  impressed  itself  upon  historians,  but  which  was 
perhaps  of  still  more  importance — namely,  the  change 
which  Louis  XI  effected  in  the  manner  of  govwning. 

Much  has  been  said  concerning  the  struggle  of  Louis  XI 
against  the  high  nobles  of  the  kingdom,  of  their  abasement. 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  241 

and  of  his  favor  toward  the  burghers  and  the  lower  classes. 
There  is  truth  in  this,  although  much  of  it  is  exaggerated; 
it  is  also  true  that  the  conduct  of  Louis  XI  toward  the  dif- 
ferent classes  oftener  troubled  than  served  the  state.  But 
he  did  something  much  more  important.  Up  to  this  time 
the  government  had  proceeded  almost  entirely  by  force  and 
by  material  means.  Persuasion,  address,  the  managing 
men^s  minds  and  leading  them  to  particular  view^s,  in  a 
word,  policy — policy  doubtless  of  falsehood  and  imposition, 
but  also  of  management  and  prudence,  had  hitherto  been 
but  little  attended  to.  Louis  XI  substituted  in  the  gov- 
ernment intellectual  in  place  of  material  means,  artifice 
instead  of  force,  the  Italian  policy  in  place  of  the  feudal. 
Look  at  the  two  men  whose  rivalry  occupies  this  epoch  of 
our  history,  Charles  le  Temeraire  and  Louis  XI.  Charles 
was  the  representative  of  the  ancient  form  of  governing; 
he  proceeded  by  violence  alone,  he  appealed  incessantly  to 
war,  he  was  incapable  of  exercising  patience,  or  of  address- 
ing himself  to  the  minds  of  men  in  order  to  make  them 
instruments  to  his  success.  'It  was  on  the  contrary  the 
pleasure  of  Louis  XI  to  avoid  the  use  of  force  and  take 
possession  of  men  individually  by  conversation  and  the 
skillful  handling  of  interests  and  minds.  He  changed 
neither  the  institutions  nor  the  external  system,  but  only 
the  secret  proceedings,  the  tactics  of  power.  It  was  left 
for  modern  times  to  attempt  a  still  greater  revolution,  by 
laboring  to  introduce,  alike  into  political  means  as  into 
political  ends,  justice  instead  of  selfishness,  and  publicity 
in  place  of  lying  fraud.  It  is  not  less  true,  however,  that 
there  was  great  indication  of  progress  in  renouncing  the 
continual  employment  of  force,  in  invoking  chiefiy  intel- 
lectual superiority,  in  governing  through  mind,  and  not  by 
the  ruin  of  existences.  It  was  this  that  Louis  XI  com- 
menced, by  force  of  his  high  intellect  alone,  amid  all  his 
crimes  and  faults,  despite  his  bad  nature. 


242  HISTORY  OF 

From  France  I  pass  to  Spain;  there  I  find  events  of  the 
same  nature;  it  was  thus  that  the  national  unit}*"  of  Spain 
was  formed  in  the  fifteenth  century;  at  that  time,  hy  the 
conquest  of  the  kingdom  of  Grenada,  the  lengthened 
struggle  between  the  Christians  and  the  Arabs  was  put  an 
end  to.  Then,  also,  the  country  was  centralized;  by  the 
marriage  of  Ferdinand  the  Catholic  and  Isabella,  the  two 
principal  kingdoms  of  Castile  and  Aragon  were  united 
under  one  power.  As  in  France,  royalty  was  here  extended 
and  strengthened;  sterner  institutions,  and  which  bore  a 
more  mournful  name,  served  as  its  fulcrum;  instead  of 
parliament,  the  inquisition  arose.  It  contained  in  germ 
what  it  was  to  be,  but  it  was  not  then  the  same  as  in  its 
maturer  age.  It  was  at  first  rather  political  than  religious, 
and  intended  rather  to  maintain  order  than  to  defend  the 
faith.  The  analogy  extends  beyond  institutions,  it  is 
found  even  in  the  persons.  With  less  artifice,  mental 
movement  and  restless  and  busy  activity,  the  character  and 
government  of  Ferdinand  the  Catholic  resembles  that  of 
Louis  XI.  I  hold  as  unimportant  all  arbitrary  compari- 
sons and  fanciful  parallels;  but  here  the  analogy  is  pro- 
found and  visible  alike  in  general  facts  and  in  details. 

We  find  the  same  in  Germany.  It  was  in  the  middle  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  in  1438,  that  the  house  of  Austria 
returned  to  the  empire,  and  with  it  the  imperial  power 
acquired  a  permanence  which  it  had  never  possessed 
before;  election  afterward  did  little  more  than  consecrate 
the  hereditary  successor.  At  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  Maximilian  I  definitively  founded  the  preponder- 
ance of  his  house  and  the  regular  exercise  of  central 
authority;  Charles  VII  first  created  in  France  a  standing 
army  for  the  maintenance  of  order;  Maximilian  was  also 
the  first,  in  his  hereditary  states,  to  attain  the  same  end  by 
the  same  means,  Louis  XI  established  the  post-office  in 
France;   and   Maximilian    introduced    it   into   Germany. 


GIVILIZA  TlOJSr  IN  EUROPE.  243 

Everywhere   the  same  progressions  of    civilization  were 
similarly  cultivated  for  the  good  of  central  power. 

The  history  of  England  in  the  fifteenth  century  consists 
of  two  great  events;  without,  the  struggle  against  the 
French,  and  within,  that  of  the  two  roses,  the  foreign  and 
the  civil  war.  These  two  so  dissimilar  wars  led  to  the 
same  result.  The  struggle  against  the  French  was  sus- 
tained by  the  English  people  with  an  ardor  which  profited 
only  royalty.  This  nation,  already  more  skillful  and  firni 
than  any  other  in  keeping  back  its  forces  and  supplies,  at 
this  epoch  abandoned  them  to  its  kings  without  foresight 
or  limit.  It  was  under  the  reign  of  Henry  V  that  a  con- 
siderable tax,  the  customs,  was  granted  to  the  king  from 
the  commencement  of  his  reign  until  his  death.  When 
the  foreign  war  was  ended,  or  almost  so,  the  civil  war, 
which  had  been  associated  with  it,  continued  alone;  the 
houses  of  York  at  first  and  Lancaster  disputed  for  the  throne. 
When  they  came  to  the  end  of  their  bloody  contests,  the 
high  English  aristocracy  found  itself  ruined,  decimated 
and  incapable  of  preserving  the  power  which  it  had 
hitherto  exercised.  The  coalition  of  the  great  barons 
could  no  longer  influence  the  throne.  The  Tudors 
ascended  it,  and  with  Henry  VII,  in  1485,  commenced  the 
epoch  of  political  centralization  and  the  triumph  of 
royalty. 

Koyalty  was  not  established  in  Italy,  at  least  not  under 
that  name;  but  this  matters  little  as  regards  the  result.  It 
was  in  the  fifteenth  century  that  the  republics  fell;  even 
where  the  name  remained,  the  power  was  concentred  in  the 
hands  of  one  or  more  families;  republican  life  was  extinct. 
In  the  north  of  Italy,  almost  all  the  Lombard  republics 
were  absorbed  in  the  duchy  of  Milan.  In  1434  Florence 
fell  under  the  domination  of  Medicis;  in  1464  Genoa 
became  subject  to  the  Milanese.  The  greater  portion  of 
the  republics,  great  and   small,  gave   place  to  sovereign 


!344  H18T0RT  OF 

houses.  The  pretensions  of  foreign  sovereigns  were  soon 
put  forth  upon  the  north  and  south  of  Italy,  upon  the 
Milanese  on  one  side,  and  the  kingdom  of  Naples  on 
the  other. 

Upon  whatever  country  of  Europe  we  turn  our  eyes,  and 
whatever  portion  of  its  history  we  may  consider,  whether  it 
has  reference  to  the  nations  themselves,  or  to  their  gov- 
ernments, to  the  institutions  of  the  countries,  we  shall 
everywhere  see  the  ancient  elements  and  forms  of  society 
on  the  point  of  disappearing.  The  traditional  liberties 
perish  and  new  and  more  concentrated  and  regular  powers 
arise.  There  is  something  profoundly  sad  in  the  fall 
of  the  old  European  liberties;  at  the  time  it  inspired 
the  bitterest  feelings.  In  France,  Germany,  and 
above  all,  in  Italy,  the  patriots  of  the  fifteenth  century 
contested  with  ardor,  and  deplored  with  despair, 
this  revolution,  which,  on  all  sides,  was  bringing 
about  what  might  justly  be  called  despotism.  One  cannot 
help  admiring  their  courage  and  commiserating  their  sor- 
row; but  at  the  same  time  it  must  be  understood  that  this 
revolution  was  not  only  inevitable,  but  beneficial  also. 
The  primitive  system  of  Europe,  the  old  feudal  and  com- 
munal liberties,  had  failed  in  the  organization  of  society. 
What  constitutes  social  life  is  security  and  progress.  Any 
system  which  does  not  procure  present  order  and  future 
progress,  is  vicious,  and  soon  abandoned.  Such  was  the 
fate  of  the  ancient  political  forms,  the  old  European  liber- 
ties, in  the  fifteenth  century.  They  could  give  to  society 
neither  security  nor  progress.  These  were  sought  else- 
where from  other  principles  and  other  means.  This  is  the 
meaning  of  all  the  facts  which  I  have  just  placed  before 
vou. 

From  the  same  epoch  dates  another  fact  which  has  held 
an  important  place  in  the  political  history  of  Europe.  It 
was  in  the  fifteenth  century  that  the  relations  of  govern- 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  245 

ments  between  themselves  began  to  be  frequent,  regular, 
permanent.  It  was  then  for  the  first  time  that  those  great 
alliances  were  formed,  whether  for  peace  or  war,  which  at 
a  later  period  produced  the  system  of  equilibrium.  Diplo- 
macy in  Europe  dates  from  the  fifteenth  century.  Toward 
the  end  of  this  century  you  see  the  principal  powers  of 
Continental  Europe,  the  popes,  the  dukes  of  Milan,  the 
Venetians,  the  emperors  of  Germany  and  the  kings  of 
Spain  and  of  France,  form  connections,  negotiate,  unite, 
balance  each  other.  Thus,  at  the  time  that  Charles  VII 
formed  his  expedition  to  conquer  the  kingdom  of  Naples, 
a  great  league  was  formed  against  him,  between  Spain,  the 
pope,  and  the  Venetians.  The  league  of  Cambrai  was 
formed  some  years  later  (in  1508),  against  the  Venetians. 
The  holy  league,  directed  against  Louis  XII,  succeeded  in 
1511  to  the  league  of  Cambrai.  All  these  alliances  arose 
from  Italian  policy,  from  the  desire  of  various  sovereigns 
to  possess  Italy,  and  from  the  fear  that  some  one  of  them, 
by  seizing  it  exclusively,  should  acquire  an  overpowering 
preponderance.  This  new  order  of  facts  was  highly  favor- 
able to  the  development  of  royalty.  On  the  one  hand,  from 
the  nature  of  the  external  relations  of  states,  they  can  only 
be  conducted  by  a  single  person  or  a  small  number  of  per- 
sons, and  exact  a  certain  secrecy;  on  the  other,  the  people  had 
so  little  foresip"ht,  that  the  consequences  of  an  alliance  of 
this  kind  escaped  them;  it  was  not  for  them  of  any  internal 
or  direct  interest;  they  cared  little  about  it,  and  left  such 
events  to  the  discretion  of  the  central  power.  Thus  dyilo- 
macy  at  its  birth  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  kings,  and  the 
idea  that  it  belonged  exclusively  to  tnem,  that  the  country, 
although  free,  and  having  the  right  of  voting  its  taxes  and 
interfering  in  its  affairs,  was  not  called  upon  to  mix  itself 
in  external  matters — this  idea,  I  say,  was  established  in 
almost  all  European  minds  as  an  accepted  principle,  a 
maxim  of  common  law.     Open  English  history  at  the  six- 


246  HISTORY  OF 

teenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  you  will  see  what  power 
this  idea  exercised,  and  what  obstacle  it  opposed  to  English 
liberties  under  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth,  James  I  and 
Charles  I.  It  was  always  under  the  name  of  this  principle 
that  peace  and  war,  commercial  relations,  and  all  external 
affairs,  appertained  to  the  royal  prerogative;  and  it  was  oy 
this  that  absolute  power  defended  itself  against  thel' 
rights  of  the  country.  Nations  have  been  excessively 
timid  in  contesting  this  part  of  prerogative;  and  this 
timidity  has  cost  them  the  more  dear,  since,  from  the 
epoch  upon  which  we  are  now  entering,  that  is  to  say,  the 
sixteenth  century,  the  history  of  Europe  is  essentially 
diplomatic.  External  relations,  during  nearly  three  cen- 
turies, are  the  important  fact  of  history.  Within 
nations  became  regulated,  the  internal  government,  upon 
the  continent  at  least,  led  to  no  more  violent  agitations, 
nor  absorbed  public  activity.  It  is  external  relations, 
wars,  negotiations  and  alliances,  which  attract  attention, 
and  fill  the  pages  of  history,  so  that  the  greater  portion  of 
the  destiny  of  nations  has  been  abandoned  to  the  royal 
prerogative  and  to  central  power. 

Indeed,  it  was  hardly  possible  it  should  be  otherwise. 
A  very  great  progress  in  civilization,  and  a  great  develop- 
ment of  intellect  and  political  skill  are  necessary,  before  the 
public  can  interfere  with  any  success  in  affairs  of  this  kind. 
From  the  sixteenth  to  the  eighteenth  century,  the  people 
were  very  far  from  being  thus  qualified.  See  w hat  took  place 
under  James  I  in  England  at  the  commencement  of  the 
seventeenth  century:  his  son-in-law,  the  elector-palatine, 
elected  king  of  Bohemia,  lost  his  crown;  he  was  even  robbed 
of  his  hereditary  states,  the  palatinate.  The  whole  of  Pror 
testantism  was  interested  in  his  cause,  and  for  that  reason 
England  testified  a  lively  interest  toward  him.  There  was 
a  powerful  ebullition  of  public  opinion  to  force  King  James 
to  take  the  part  of  his  son-in-law,  and  regain  for  him  the 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  247 

palatinate.  Parliament  furiously  demanded  war,  promis- 
ing all  the  means  for  carrying  it  on.  James  was  unwilling; 
h<i  eluded  the  matter,  made  some  attempts  at  negotiation, 
rtjnt  some  troops  to  Germany,  and  then  came  to  tell  Parlia- 
ment that  £900,000  sterling  were  necessary  to  maintain 
the  contest  with  any  chance  of  success.  It  is  not  said,  nor 
indeed  does  it  appear  to  have  been  the  case,  that  his  calcu- 
lation was  exaggerated.  But  the  Parliament  recoiled  with 
surprise  and  terror  at  the  prospect  of  such  a  charge,  and  it 
unwillingly  voted  £70,000  sterling  to  re-establish  a  prince, 
and  reconquer  a  country  three  hundred  leagues  from  Eng- 
land. Such  was  the  political  ignorance  and  incapacity  of 
the  public  in  matter^  of  this  kind;  it  acted  without  knowl- 
edge of  facts,  and  without  troubling  itself  with  any  re- 
sponsibility. It  was  not  then  in  a  condition  to  interfere 
in  a  regular  or  efficacious  manner.  This  is  the  principal 
cause  of  the  external  relations  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 
central  power;  that  alone  was  in  a  condition  to  direct 
them,  I  do  not  say  for  the  public  interest,  for  it  was  far 
from  being  always  consulted,  but  with  any  continuity  or 
good  sense. 

You  see,  under  whatever  point  of  view  the  political  his- 
tory of  Europe  at  this  epoch  is  presented  to  us,  whether  we 
turn  our  eyes  upon  the  internal  state  of  nations,  or  upon 
the  relations  of  nations  with  each  other,  whether  we  con- 
sider the  administration  of  war,  justice,  or  taxation,  we 
everywhere  find  the  same  character;  everywhere  we  see  the 
same  tendency  to  the  centralization,  unity,  formation  and; 
preponderance  of  general  interests  and  public  powers. 
This  was  the  secret  work  of  the  fifteenth  century,  a  work 
which  did  not  as  yet  lead  to  any  very  prominent  result,  nor 
any  revolution,  properly  so  called,  in  society,  but  which 
prepared  the  way  for  all  of  them.  I  shall  immediately 
place  before  you  facts  of  another  nature,  moral  facts,  facts 
which  relate  to  the  development  of  the  human  mind  and 


248  HI8T0RT  OF 

universal  ideas.     There  also  we  shall  acknowledge  the  same 
phenomenon,  and  arrive  at  the  same  result. 

I  shall  commence  with  a  class  of  facts  which  has  often 
occupied  us,  and  which,  under  the  most  various  forms,  has 
always  held  an  important  place  in  the  history  of  Europe, 
namely,  facts  relative  to  the  church.  Down  to  the  fifteenth 
century  we  have  seen  in  Europe  no  universal  and  powerful 
ideas  acting  truly  upon  the  masses,  except  those  of  a  relig- 
ious nature.  We  have  seen  the  church  alone  invested  with 
the  power  of  regulating,  promulgating  and  prescribing 
them.  Often,  it  is  true,  attempts  at  independence,  even 
separation,  were  formed,  and  the  church  had  much  to  do 
to  overcome  them.  But  hitherto  she  had  conquered  them; 
creeds  repudiated  by  the  church  had  taken  no  general  and 
permanent  possession  of  the  minds  of  the  people;  the  Albi- 
genses  themselves  were  crushed.  Dissension  and  contest 
were  of  incessant  occurrence  in  the  heart  of  the  church,  but 
without  any  decisive  or  eminent  result.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  fifteenth  century  an  entirely  different  fact  an- 
nounced itself;  new  ideas,  a  public  and  avowed  want  of 
change  and  reform,  agitated  the  church  herself.  The  end 
of  the  fourteenth  and  commencement  of  the  fifteenth  cent- 
ury were  marked  by  the  great  schism  of  the  west,  the 
result  of  the  translation  of  the  holy  see  to  ^Lvignon,  and  of 
the  creation  of  two  popes,  one  at  Avignon,  the  other  at 
Rome.  The  struggle  between  these  two  papacies  is  what  is, 
called  the  great  schism  of  the  west.  It  commenced  in 
1378.  In  1409,  the  council  of  Pisa  wishing  to  end  it,  de- 
posed both  popes,  and  nominated  a  third,  Alexander  V. 
So  far  from  being  appeased,  the  schism  became  warmer; 
there  were  three  popes  instead  of  two.  The  disorder  and 
abuses  continued  to  increase.  In  1414  the  council  of  Con- 
stance assembled  at  the  summons  of  the  Emperor  Sigis- 
mond.  It  proposed  to  itself  a  work  very  different  from 
nominating  a  new  pope;  it  undertook  the  reform  of  the 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  249 

church.     It  first  proclaimed  the  indissolubility  of  the  gen- 
eral council,  and  its  superiority  over  the  papal  power;  it 
undertook  to  make  these  principles  prevalent  in  the  church, 
and  to  reform  the  abuses  which  had  crept  into  it,  above  all 
the  exactions  by  which  the  court  of  Kome  had  procured 
supplies.     For  tlie   attainment  of  this  end,  the  council 
nominated   what  we   will   call  a  commission   of  inquiry, 
that  is  to  say,  a  college  of  reform,  composed  of  deputies 
of  the  council  taken  from  different  nations;   it  was  the 
duty  of  this  college  to  seek  what  were  the  abuses  which 
disgraced    the    church,    and    how    they    might    best    be 
remedied,  and  to   make   a   report  to   the  council,  which 
would    consult    upon     the    means     of    execution.       But 
while   the   council  was   occupied  in  this  work,  the  ques- 
tion was  mooted  as  to  whether  they  could  proceed  in  the 
reformation  of  abuses,  without  the  visible  participation  of 
the  chief  of  the  church,  without  the  sanction  of  the  pope. 
The   negative  was  passed  by  the  influence  of  the  Roman- 
ist party,  supported  by  lionest,  but  timid  men;  the  council 
elected  a  new  pope,  Martin  V,  in  1417.     The  pope  was  de- 
sired to  present  on  his  part  a  plan  of  reform  in  the  church. 
This  plan  was  not  approved,  and  the  council-  separated. 
In  1431  a  new  council  assembled  at  Basle  with  the  same  view. 
It  resumed  and  continued  the  work  of  reform  of  the  council 
of  Constance,  and  met  with  no  better  success.      Schism 
broke  out  in  the  interior  of  the  assembly,  the  same  as  in 
Christianity.     The  pope  transferred  the  council  of  Basle  to 
Ferrara,  and  afterward  to  Florence.     Part  of  the  prelates 
refused  to  obey  the  pope,  and  remained  at  Basle;  and  as 
formerly  there  had  been  two  popes,  so  there  were  now  two 
councils.     That  of  Basle  continued  its   projects  of  reform, 
and  nominated  its  pope,  Felix  V.     After  a  certain  time  it 
transported  itself  to  Lausanne;  and  in  1449  dissolved  itself, 
without  having  effected  any  thing. 
Thus  papacy  carried  the  day>  and  remained  in  possession 


250  HISTORY  OF 

of  the  field  of  battle  and  the  government  of  the  church. 
The  council  could  not  accomplish  what  it  had  undertaken; 
but  it  effected  things  which  it  had  not  undertaken,  and 
which  survived  it.  At  the  time  that  the  council  of  Basle 
failed  in  its  attempts  at  reform,  sovereigns  seized  upon 
,the  ideas  which  it  proclaimed,  and  the  institution  which 
'it  suggested.  In  France,  upon  the  foundation  of  the  decrees 
of  the  council  of  Basle,  Charles  V  formed  the  Pragmatic 
Sanction,  which  he  issued  at  Bourges  in  1438;  it  enun- 
ciated the  election  of  bishops,  the  suppression  of  first  fruits, 
and  the  reform  of  the  principal  abuses  which  had  been 
introduced  into  the  church.  The  Pragmatic  Sanction  was 
declared  in  France  the  law  of  the  state.  In  Germany,  the 
diet  of  Mayence  adopted  it  in  1439,  and  likewise  made  it  a 
law  of  the  German  Empire.  What  the  spiritual  power 
had  unsuccessfully  attempted,  the  temporal  power  seemed 
destined  to  accomplish. 

New  reverses  sprung  up  for  the  projects  of  reform.  As 
the  council  had  failed,  so  did  the  Pragmatic  Sanction.  In 
Germany  it  perished  very  abruptly.  The  diet  abandoned  it 
in  1448,  in  consequence  of  a  negotiation  with  Nicholas  V. 
In  1516,  Francis  I  likewise  abandoned  it,  and  in  its  place 
substituted  his  Concordat  with  Leo  X.  The  princes'  reform 
did  not  succeed  any  better  than  that  of  the  clergy.  But 
it  must  not  be  supposed  that  it  entirely  perished.  As 
the  council  effected  things  which  survived  it,  so  also  the 
Pragmatic  Sanction  had  consequences  which  it  left  behind, 
and  which  played  an  important  part  in  modern  history. 
The  principles  of  the  council  of  Basle  were  powerful  and 
fertile.  Superior  men,  and  men  of  energetic  character, 
have  adopted  and  supported  them.  John  of  Paris,  D'Ailly, 
Gerson,  and  many  distinguished  men  of  the  fifteenth  cent- 
ury, devoted  themselves  to  their  defense.  In  vain  was  the 
council  dissolved;  in  vain  was  the  Pragmatic  Sanction 
abandoned;  its   general  doctrines  upon  the  government  of 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  251 

the  church,  and  upon  the  reforms  necessary  to  be  carried 
out,  had  taken  root  in  France;  they  were  perpetuated; 
they  passed  into  the  parliaments,  and  became  a  powerful 
opinion.  They  gave  rise  first  to  the  Jansenists  and  after- 
ward to  the  Gallicans.  All  this  series  of  maxims  and 
efforts  tending  to  reform  the  church,  which  commenced 
with  the  council  of  Constance  and  terminated  with  the 
four  propositions  of  Bossuet,  emanated  from  the  same 
source  and  were  directed  toward  the  same  end;  it  was  the 
same  fact  successively  transformed  It  was  in  vain  that 
the  attempt  at  legal  reform  in  the  fifteenth  century  failed; 
not  the  less  has  it  taken  its  place  in  the  course  of  civiliza- 
tion— not  the  less  has  it  indirectly  exercised  an  enormous 
influence. 

The  councils  were  right  in  pursuing  a  legal  reform,  for 
that  alone  could  prevent  a  revolution.  Almost  at  the 
moment  when  the  council  of  Pisa  undertook  to  bring  the 
great  schism  of  the  west  to  a  termination,  and  the  council 
of  Constance  to  reform  the  church,  the  first  essays  at  pop- 
ular religious  reform  violently  burst  forth  in  Bohemia.  The 
predictions  and  progress  of  John  Huss  date  from  1404,  at 
which  period  he  begun  to  teach  at  Prague.  Here,  then, 
are  two  reforms  marching  side  by  side;  the  one  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  church,  attempted  by  the  ecclesiastical  aristoc- 
racy itself — a  wise,  but  embarrassed  and  timid  reform; 
the  other,  outside  and  against  the  church,  violent  and 
passionate.  A  contest  arose  between  these  two  powers  and 
designs.  The  council  summoned  John  Huss  and  Jerome 
of  Prague  to  Constance,  and  condemned  them  as  heretics 
and  revolutionists.  These  events  are  perfectly  intelligible 
to  us  at  the  present  day.  We  can  very  well  understand 
this  simultaneousness  of  separate  reforms  —  enterprises 
undertaken,  one  by  the  governments,  the  other  by  the 
people,  opposed  to  one  another,  and  yet  emanating  from 
the  same  cause  and  tending  io  the  same  end,  and,  in 


252  HISTORY  OF 

fine,  although  at  war  with  each  other,  still  concurring  t% 
the  same  result.  This  is  what  occurred  in  the  fifteenth 
century.  The  popular  reform  of  John  Huss  was  for  the 
instant  stifled,  the  war  of  the  Hussites  broke  forth  three 
or  lour  years  after  the  death  of  the  irmaster.  It  lasted 
long,  and  was  violent,  but  the  empire  finally  triumphed. 
But  as  the  reform  of  the  councils  had  failed,  as  the  end 
which  they  pursued  had  not  been  attained,  the  popular 
reform  ceased  not  to  ferment.  It  watched  the  first  oppor- 
tunity, and  found  it  at  the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  If  the  reform  undertaken  by  the  councils  had 
been  well  carried  out,  the  reformation  might  have  been 
prevented.  But  one  or  the  other  must  have  succeeded; 
their  coincidence  shows  a  necessity. 

This,  then,  is  the  state  in  which  Europe  was  left  by  the 
fifteenth  century  with  regard  to  religious  matters — an  aristo- 
cratical  reform  unsuccessfully  attempted,  and  a  popular 
reform  commenced,  stifled,  and  always  ready  to  reappear. 
But  it  was  not  to  the  sphere  of  religious  creeds  that  the 
fermentation  of  the  human  mind  at  this  epoch  was  con- 
fined. It  was  in  the  course  of  the  fourteenth  century,  as 
you  all  know,  that  Greek  and  Roman  antiquity  were,  so  to 
speak,  restored  in  Europe.  You  know  with  what  eagerness 
Dante,  Petrarch,  Boccaccio,  and  all  their  contemporaries 
sought  for  the  Greek  and  Latin  manuscripts,  and  published 
and  promulgated  them,  and  what  noise  and  transports  thd 
least  discovery  of  this  kind  excited. 

In  the  midst  of  this  excitement,  a  school  was  commenced 
in  Europe  which  has  played  a  very  much  more  important 
part  in  the  development  of  the  human  mind  than  has  gen- 
erally been  attributed  to  it:  this  was  the  classical  school. 
Let  me  warn  you  from  attaching  the  same  sense  to  this 
word  which  we  give  to  it  in  the  present  day;  it  was  then  a 
very  different  thing  from  a  literary  system  or  contest.  The 
classical  school  of  that  period  was  inflamed  with  admira- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  253 

don,  not  only  for  the  writings  of  the  ancients,  for  Virgil 
and  Homer,  but  for  the  whole  of  ancient  society,  for  its 
institutions,  opinions  and  philosophy,  as  well  as  for  its 
literature.  It  must  be  confessed  that  antiquity,  under  the 
heads  of  politics,  philosophy  and  literature,  was  far  supe- 
rior to  the  Europe  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries. 
It  cannot,  therefore,  be  wondered  at  that  it  should  exercise 
so  great  a  sway,  or  that  for  the  most  part,  elevated,  active, 
refined  and  fastidious  minds  should  take  a  disgust  at  the 
coarse  manners,  confused  ideas,  and  barbarous  forms  of 
their  own  times,  and  that  they  should  devote  themselves 
with  enthusiasm  to  the  study,  and  almost  to  the  worship 
of  a  society  at  once  more  regular  and  developed.  Thus 
was  formed  that  school  of  free  thinkers  which  appeared  at 
the  commencement  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  in  which 
prelates,  jurisconsults  and  scholars  met  together. 

Amid  this  excitement  happened  the  taking  of  Con- 
stantinople by  the  Turks,  the  fall  of  the  Eastern  Empire, 
and  the  flight  into  Italy  of  the  Greek  fugitives.  They 
brought  with  them  a  higher  knowledge  of  antiquity, 
numerous  manuscripts,  and  a  thousand  new  means  of 
studying  ancient  civilization.  The  redoubled  admiration 
and  ardor  with  which  the  classical  school  was  animated 
may  easily  be  imagined.  This  was  the  time  of  the  most 
brilliant  development  of  the  high  clergy,  particularly  in 
Italy,  not  as  regards  political  power,  properly  speaking, 
but  in  point  of  luxury  and  wealth;  they  abandoned  them-: 
selves  with  pride  to  all  the  pleasures  of  a  voluptuous, 
indolent,  elegant  and  licentious  civilization — to  the  taste 
for  letters  and  arts,  and  for  social  and  material  enjoyments. 
Look  at  the  kind  of  life  led  by  the  men  who  played  a  great 
political  and  literary  part  at  this  epoch — by  Cardinal  Bembo, 
for  instance;  you  will  be  surprised  at  the  mixture  of  sybari- 
tism and  intellectual  development,  of  effeminate  manners 
and  hardihood  of  mind.     One  would  think,  indeed,  wheo 


854  HISTORY  OP* 

we  glance  over  this  epoch,  when  we  are  present  at  the 
spectacle  of  its  ideas  and  the  state  of  its  moral  relations, 
one  would  think  we  were  living  in  France  in  the  midst 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  There  is  the  same  taste  for 
intellectual  excitement,  for  new  ideas,  for  an  easy, 
agreeable  life ;  the  same  effeminateness  and  licentious- 
ness; the  same  deficiency  in  political  energy  and  moral 
faith,  with  a  singular  sincerity  and  activity  of  mind. 
The  literati  of  the  fifteenth  century  were,  with  regard  to 
the  prelates  of  the  high  church,  in  the  same  relation  as  men 
of  letters  and  philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century  with 
the  high  artistocracy;  they  all  had  the  same  opinions  and 
the  same  manners,  lived  harmoniously  together  and  did 
not  trouble  themselves  about  the  commotions  that  were  in 
preparation  around  them.  The  prelates  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  commencing  with  Cardinal  Bembo,  most  certainly 
no  more  foresaw  Luther  and  Calvin  than  the  people  of  the 
court  forsesaw  the  French  revolution.  The  position,  how- 
ever, was  analogous. 

Three  great  facts,  then,  present  themselves  at  this  epoch 
in  the  moral  order:  first,  an  ecclesiastical  reform  attempted 
by  the  church  herself;  secondly,  a  popular  religious  reform; 
and  finally  an  intellectual  reform,  which  gave  rise  to  a 
school  of  free  thinkers.  And  all  these  metamorphoses 
were  in  preparation  amid  the  greatest  political  change 
which  had  taken  place  in  Europe,  amid  the  work  of 
centralization  of  people  and  governments. 

This  was  not  all.  This  also  was  the  time  of  the  greatest 
external  activity  of  mar  kind;  it  was  a  period  of  voyages, 
enterprises,  discoveries  and  inventions  of  all  kinds.  This 
was  the  time  of  the  great  expeditions  of  the  Portuguese 
along  the  coast  of  Africa,  of  the  discovery  of  the  passage 
of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  by  Vasco  de  Gama,  of  the  dis- 
covery of  America  by  Christopher  Columbus,  and  of  the 
wonderful  extension  of  European  commerce.     A  thousand 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE,  265 

new  inventions  came  forth;  others  already  known,  but  only 
within  a  narrow  sphere,  became  popular  and  of  common 
use.  Gunpowder  changed  the  system  of  war,  the  compass 
changed  the  system  of  navigation.  The  art  of  oil-painting 
developed  itself  and  covered  Europe  with  masterpieces  of 
art:  engraving  on  copper,  invented  in  1460,  multiplied  and 
promulgated  them.  Linen  paper  became  common;  and 
lastly,  from  1436  to  1452,  printing  was  invented;  printing, 
the  theme  of  so  much  declamation  and  so  many  common- 
places, but  the  merit  and  eifects  of  which  no  commonplace 
nor  any  declamation  can  ever  exhaust. 

You  see  what  was  the  greatness  and  activity  of  this 
century — a  greatness  still  only  partially  apparent,  an 
activity,  the  results  of  which  have  not  yet  been  fully 
developed.  Violent  reforms  seem  unsuccessful,  govern- 
ments strengthened  and  nations  pacified.  It  might  be 
thought  that  society  was  preparing  to  enjoy  a  better  order 
of  things,  amid  a  more  rapid  progress.  But  the  power- 
ful revolutions  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  impending: 
the  fifteenth  had  been  preparing  them.  They  will  be  the 
flubject  of  my  next  lecture. 


2b6  HISTORY  OF 


TWELFTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Difficulty  of  distinguishing  general  facts  in 
modern  history — Picture  of  Europe  in  the  sixteenth  century — Dan- 
ger of  precipitate  generalization — Various  causes  assigned  to  the 
reformation — Its  dominant  character  was  the  insurrection  of  the 
human  mind  against  absolute  power  in  the  intellectual  order — 
Evidences  of  this  fact — Fate  of  the  reformation  in  different 
countries — Weak  side  of  the  reformation — The  Jesuits — 
Analogy  between  the  revolutions  of  religious  society  and  those 
of  civil  society. 

We  have  often  deplored  the  disorder  and  chaos  of 
European  society;  we  have  complained  of  the  difficulty  of 
understanding  and  describing  a  society  thus  scattered,  in- 
coherent and  broken  up;  we  have  longed  for,  and  patiently 
invoked,  the  epoch  of  general  interests,  order  and  social 
unity.  We  have  now  arrived  at  it;  we  are  entering  upon 
the  epoch  when  all  is  general  facts  and  general  ideas,  the 
epoch  of  order  and  unity.  We  shall  here  encounter  a 
difficulty  of  another  kind.  Hitherto  we  have  had  much 
trouble  in  connecting  facts  with  one  another,  in  making 
them  co-ordinate,  in  perceiving  whatever  they  may  possess 
in  common,  and  distinguishing  some  completeness.  Every 
thing  reverses  itself  in  modern  Europe;  all  the  elements 
and  incidents  of  social  life  modify  themselves  and  act  und 
react  on  one  another;  the  relations  of  men  among  them- 
selves become  much  more  numerous  and  complicated.  It 
is  the  same  in  their  relations  with  the  government  of  the 
state,  the  same  in  the  relations  of  the  states  among  them- 
selves, the  same  in  ideas  and  in  the  works  of  the  human 
mind.     In  the  times  which  we  have  gone  through  a  large 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  25? 

number  of  facts  passed  away,  isolated,  foreign  to  one 
another,  and  without  reciprocal  influence.  We  shall  now 
no  longer  find  this  isolation;  all  things  touch,  commingle 
and  modify  as  they  meet.  Is  there  anything  more  difficult 
than  to  seize  the  true  unity  amid  such  diversity,  to  de- 
termine the  direction  of  a  movement  so  extended  and 
complex,  to  recapitulate  this  prodigious  number  of  various 
elements  so  clearly  connected  with  one  another;  in  fine,  to 
ascertain  the  general  dominant  fact,  which  sums  up  a 
long  series  of  facts,  which  characterizes  an  epoch,  and  is 
the  faithful  expression  of  its  influence  and  its  share  in  the 
history  of  civilization?  You  will  measure  with  a  glance 
this  difficulty  in  the  great  event  which  now  occupies  our 
attention.  We  encountered,  in  the  twelfth  century,  an 
event  which  was  religious  in  its  origin  if  not  in  its  nature; 
I  mean  the  crusades.  Despite  the  greatness  of  this  event, 
despite  its  long  duration  and  the  variety  of  incidents  to 
which  it  led,  we  found  it  difficult  enough  to  distinguish  its 
general  character,  and  to  determine  with  any  precision  its 
unity  and  its  influence.  We  have  now  to  consider  the 
religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth  century,  usually  called 
the  Reformation.  Permit  me  to  say,  in  passing,  that  I 
shall  use  the  word  neformatiori  as  a  simple  and  understood 
term,  as  synonymous  with  religioiis  revolution,  and  with- 
out implying  any  judgment  of  it.  You  see  at  the  very 
commencement  how  difficult  it  is  to  recognize  the  true 
character  of  this  great  crisis,  to  say  in  a  general  manner 
what  it  was  and  what  it  effected. 

It  is  between  the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth  and 
the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  centurv  that  we  must  look 
for  the  reformation;  for  that  period  comprises,  so  to 
speak,  the  life  of  the  event,  its  origin  and  end.  All  his- 
torical events  have,  so  to  speak,  a  limited  career;  their 
consequences  are  prolonged  to  infinity ;  they  have  a 
hold  upon  all  the  past  and  all  the  future;  but  it  is  not 


258  HISTORY  OF  4 

the  less  true  that  they  have  a  particular  and  limited 
existence,  that  they  are  born,  that  they  increase,  that  they 
fill  with  their  development  a  certain  duration  of  time,  and 
then  decrease  and  retire  from  the  scene  in  order  to  make 
room  for  some  new  event. 

The  precise  date  assigned  to  the  origin  of  the  reforma- 
tion is  of  little  importance;  we  may  take  the  year  1520, 
when  Luther  publicly  burnt,  at  Wittemberg,  the  bull  of 
Leo  X,  which  condemned  him,  and  thus  formally  separated 
himself  from  the  Roman  church.  It  was  between  this 
epoch  and  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  year 
1648,  the  date  of  the  treaty  of  Westphalia,  that  the  life  of 
the  reformation  was  comprised.  Here  is  the  proof  of  it.  The 
first  and  greatest  effect  of  the  religious  revolution  was  to 
create  in  Europe  two  classes  of  states — the  Catholic  states 
and  the  Protestant  states,  to  place  them  opposite  each 
other,  and  open  the  contest  between  them.  With  many 
vicissitudes,  this  struggle  lasted  from  the  commencement 
of  the  sixteenth  centurv  down  to  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth.  It  was  by  the  treaty  of  Westphalia,  in  1648,  that 
the  Catholic  and  Protestant  states  at  last  acknowledged 
one  another ;  agreed  to,  then,  a  mutual  existence,  and 
promised  to  live  in  society  and  peace,  independently  of  the 
diversity  of  religion.  Dating  from  1648,  diversity  in  relig- 
ion ceased  to  be  the  dominant  principle  of  the  classifica- 
tion of  states,  of  their  external  policy,  their  relations,  and 
alliances.  Up  to  this  epoch,  in  spite  ot  great  variations, 
Europe  was  essentially  divided  into  a  Catholic  and  a  Pro- 
testant league.  After  the  treaty  of  Westphalia,  this  dis- 
tinction vanished  ;  states  vere  either  allied  or  divided  upon 
other  considerations  than  religious  creeds.  At  that  point, 
then,  the  preponderance,  that  is  to  say,  the  career,  of  the 
reformation  stopped,  although  its  consequences  did  not 
then  cease  to  develop  themselves.  Let  us  now  glance 
hastily  over  this  career ;   and  without  doing  more   than 


CIVILIZA  TlOJSr  IN  EUROPE.  259 

naming  the  events  and  men,  let  us  indicate  what  it  con- 
tains. You  will  see  by  this  mere  indication,  by  this  dry 
and  incomplete  nomenclature,  what  must  be  the  difficulty 
of  recapitulating  a  series  of  facts  so  varied  and  so  complex 
— of  recapitulating  them,  I  say,  in  one  general  fact ;  of 
determining  what  was  the  true  character  of  the  religious 
revolution  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  of  assigning  its 
Dart  in  the  history  of  our  civilization.  At  the  moment 
when  the  reformation  broke  forth,  it  fell,  so  to  speak,  into 
the  midst  of  a  great  political  event,  the  struggle  between 
Francis  I  and  Charles  V,  between  France  and  Spain  ;  a 
contest,  first  for  the  possession  of  Italy,  afterward  for  that 
of  the  empire  of  Germany,  and,  lastly,  for  the  preponder- 
ance in  Europe.  It  was  then  the  house  of  Austria  elevated 
itself,  and  became  dominant  in  Europe.  It  was  then,  also, 
that  England,  under  Henry  VIII,  interfered  in  continental 
politics  with  more  regularity,  permanence,  and  to  a  greater 
extent  than  she  had  hitherto  done. 

Let  us  follow  the  course  of  the  sixteenth  century  in 
France.  It  was  filled  by  the  great  religious  wars  of  the 
Protestants  and  Catholics,  the  means  and  the  occasion  of  a 
new  attempt  of  the  great  lords  to  regain  the  power  they 
had  lost.  This  is  the  political  purport  of  our  religious 
wars,  of  the  League,  of  the  struggle  of  the  Guises  against 
the  Valois,  a  struggle  which  ended  by  the  accession  of 
Henry  IV. 

In  Spain,  during  the  reign  of  Philip  II,  the  revolution  of 
the  United  Provinces  broke  out.  The  inquisition  and  civil 
and  religious  liberty  waged  war  under  the  names  of  the 
Duke  of  Alva  and  the  Prince  of  Orange.  While  liberty 
triumphed  in  Holland  by  force  of  perseverance  and  good 
sense,  she  perished  in  the  interior  of  Spain,  where  absolute 
power  prevailed,  both  lay  and  ecclesiastical. 

In  England,  during  this  period,  Mary  and  Elizabeth 
reigned ;  there  was  the  contest  of  Elizabeth,  the  head  of 


260  HISTORY  OF 

Protestantism,  against  Philip  II.  Accession  of  James 
Stuart  to  the  throne  of  England  ;  commencement  of  the 
great  quarrels  between  royalty  and  the  English  people. 

About  the  same  time  new  powers  were  created  in  the 
north.  Sweden  was  reinstated  by  Gustavus  Vasa  in  1523. 
Prussia  was  created  by  the  secularizing  of  the  Teutonic 
order.  The  powers  of  the  north  then  took  in  European 
politics  a  place  which  they  had  never  hitherto  occupied, 
the  importance  of  which  was  soon  to  be  shown  in  the  thirty 
years^  war. 

I  return  to  France.  The  reign  of  Louis  XIII;  Cardinal 
Richelieu  changed  the  internal  administration  of  France, 
entered  into  relations  with  Germany,  and  lent  aid  to  the 
Protestant  party.  In  Germany,  during  the  last  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  the  contest  took  place  against  the  Turks; 
and  at  the  commencement  of  the  seventeenth  century  the 
thirty  years^  war,  the  greatest  event  of  modern  Eastern 
Europe.  At  this  time  flourished  Gustavus  Adolphus,Wal- 
lenstein,  Tilly,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick  and  the  Duke  of 
Weimar,  the  greatest  names  that  Germany  has  yet  to 
pronounce. 

At  the  same  epoch,  in  France,  Louis  XIV  ascended  the 
throne;  the  Fronde  commenced.  In  England,  the  revolu- 
tion which  dethroned  Charles  I  broke  out. 

I  only  take  the  leading  events  of  history,  events  whose 
name  every  one  knows;  you  see  their  number,  variety  and 
importance.  If  we  seek  events  of  another  nature,  events 
which  are  less  apparent,  and  which  are  less  summed  up  in 
names,  we  shall  find  this  epoch  equally  full.  This  is  the 
period  of  the  greatest  changes  in  the  political  institutions 
of  almost  all  nations,  the  time  when  pure  monarchy  pre- 
vailed in  the  majority  of  great  states,  while  in  Holland 
the  most  powerful  republic  in  Europe  was  created,  and  in 
England  constitutional  monarchy  triumphed  definitively,  or 
nearly  so.     In  the  church,  this  was  the  period  when  the 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  261 

ancient  monastic  orders  lost  almost  all  political  power,  and 
were  replaced  by  a  new  order  of  another  character,  and  the 
importance  of  which,  perhaps  erroneously,  is  held  as  far 
superior  to  theirs,  the  Jesuits.  At  this  epoch  the  council 
of  Trent  effaced  what  might  still  remain  of  the  influence  of 
the  councils  of  Constance  and  Basle,  and  secured  the 
definitive  triumph  of  the  court  of  Kome  in  the  ecclesiastical 
order.  Let  us  leave  the  church  and  cast  an  eye  upon  phil- 
osophy; upon  the  free  career  of  the  human  mind;  two  men 
present  themselves.  Bacon  and  Descartes,  the  authors  of 
the  greatest  philosophical  revolution  v^hich  the  modern 
world  has  undergone,  the  chiefs  of  the  two  schools  which 
disputed  its  empire.  This  also  was  the  period  of  the  brill- 
iancy of  Italian  literature,  and  of  the  commencement  of 
i^rench  and  of  English  literature.  And  lastly,  it  was  the 
time  of  the  foundation  of  great  colonies  and  the  most 
active  developments  of  the  commercial  system.  Thus^ 
under  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  this  epoch,  its 
political,  ecclesiastical,  philosophical  and  literary  events 
are  in  great  number,  and  more  varied  and  important  than 
in  any  century  preceding  it.  The  activity  of  the  human 
mind  manifested  itself  in  every  way:  in  the  relations  ot 
men  between  themselves,  in  their  relations  with  power,  in 
the  relations  of  states,  and  in  purely  intellectual  labors; 
in  a  word,  it  was  a  time  for  great  men  and  for  great  things. 
And  in  the  midst  of  this  period,  the  religious  revolution 
which  occupies  our  attention  is  the  greatest  event  of  all; 
it  is  the  dominant  fact  of  this  epoch,  the  fact  which  gives 
to  it  its  name  and  determines  its  character.  Among  so 
many  powerful  causes  which  have  played  so  important  a 
part,  the  reformation  is  the  most  powerful,  that  in  which 
all  the  others  ended,  which  modified  them  all,  or  was  by 
them  modified.  So  that  what  we  have  to  do  at  present  is 
to  truly  characterize  and  accurately  sum  up  the  event  which 
in  a  period  of  the  greatest  events,  dominated  over  all,  the 


262  HISTORY  OF 

cause  which  effected  more  than  all  others  in  a  time  of  the 
most  influential  causes. 

You  will  easily  comprehend  the  difficulty  of  reducing 
facts  so  various,  so  important,  and  so  closely  united  to  a 
true  historical  unity.  It  is,  however,  necessary  to  do  this. 
When  events  are  once  consummated,  when  they  have  be- 
come history,  what  are  most  important,  and  what  man  seeks 
above  all  things,  are  general  facts,  the  connection  of  causes 
and  effects.  These,  so  to  speak,  are  the  immortal  part  of 
history,  that  to  which  all  generations  must  refer  in  order 
to  understand  the  past  and  to  understand  themselves.  The 
necessity  for  generalization  and  rational  result  is  the  most 
powerful  and  the  most  glorious  of  all  intellectual  wants; 
but  we  should  be  careful  not  to  be  contented  v/ith  incom- 
plete and  precipitate  generalizations.  Nothing  can  be 
more  tempting  than  to  give  way  to  the  pleasure  of  assigning 
immediately  and  at  the  first  view,  the  general  character  and 
permanent  results  of  an  epoch  or  event.  The  human  mind 
is  like  the  will,  always  urgent  for  action,  impatient  of  ob- 
stacles, and  eager  for  liberty  and  conclusions;  it  willingly 
forgets  facts  which  impede  and  cramp  it;  but  in  forgetting, 
it  does  not  destroy  them;  they  subsist  to  condemn  it  some 
day  and  convict  it  of  error.  There  is  but  one  means  for 
the  human  mind  to  escape  this  danger:  that  is,  coura- 
geously and  patiently  to  exhaust  the  study  of  facts  before 
generalizing  and  concluding.  Facts  are  to  the  mind  what 
rules  of  morality  are  to  the  will.  It  is  bound  to  know  them 
and  to  bear  their  weight;  and  it  is  only  when  it  has  fulfilled 
this  duty,  when  it  has  viewed  and  measured  their  whole 
extent,  it  is  then  only  that  it  is  permitted  to  unfold  its 
wings  and  take  flight  to  the  high  region  where  it  will  see 
all  things  in  their  totality  and  their  results.  If  it  attempt 
to  mount  too  quickly,  and  without  having  gained  a  knowl- 
edge of  all  the  territory  which  it  will  have  to  contemplate 
from  thence,  the  chance  of  error  and  failure  is  very  great 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE,  263 

It  is  the  same  as  in  an  arithmetical  calculation,  where  one 
error  leads  to  others,  ad  infinitum.  So  in  history,  if  in  the 
first  labor  we  do  not  attend  to  all  the  facts,  if  we  give  our- 
selves up  to  the  taste  for  precipitate  generalization,  it  is 
impossible  to  say  to  what  mistakes  we  may  be  led. 

I  am  warning  you  in  a  measure  against  myself.  I  have 
only  made,  and,  indeed,  could  only  make,  attempts  at  gen- 
eralization, general  recapitulations  of  facts  which  we  have 
not  studied  closely  and  at  large.  But  having  arrived  at  an 
epoch  when  this  undertaking  is  much  more  difficult  than 
at  any  other,  and  when  the  chances  of  error  are  much 
greater,  I  have  thought  it  a  duty  thus  to  warn  you.  That 
done,  I  shall  now  proceed  and  attempt  as  to  the  reforma- 
tion what  I  have  done  as  to  other  events;  I  shall  endeavor 
to  distinguish  its  dominant  fact,  to  describe  its  general 
character,  to  say,  in  a  word,  what  is  the  place  and  the 
share  of  this  great  event  in  European  civilization. 

You  will  call  to  mind  how  we  left  Europe  at  the  end  of 
the  fifteenth  century.  We  have  seen  in  its  course,  two 
great  attempts  at  religious  revolution  and  reform:  an 
attempt  at  legal  reform  by  the  councils,  and  an  attempt  at 
revolutionary  reform  in  Bohemia  by  the  Hussites;  we  have 
seen  them  stifled  and  failing,  one  after  the  other;  but  still 
we  have  seen  that  it  was  impossible  the  event  should  be 
prevented,  that  it  must  be  reproduced  under  one  form  or 
another;  that  what  the  fifteenth  century  had  attempted, 
the  sixteenth  would  inevitably  accomplish.  I  shall  not 
recount  in  any  way  the  details  of  the  religious  revolution 
of  the  sixteenth  century:  I  take  it  for  granted  that  they 
are  almost  universally  known.  I  attend  only  to  its  general 
influence  upon  the  destinies  of  the  human  race. 

When  the  causes  which  determined  this  great  event  have 
been  investigated,  the  adversaries  of  the  reformation  have 
imputed  it  to  accidents,  to  misfortunes  in  the  course  of 
civilization;  for  example,  to  the  sale  of  indulgences  having 


^64  HISTORY  OF 

been  confided  to  the  Dominicans,  which  made  the  Augus- 
tines  jealous:  Luther  was  an  Augustin,  and,  therefore,  was 
the  determining  cause  of  the  reformation.  Others  have 
attributed  it  to  the  ambition  of  sovereigns,  to  their 
rivah'y  with  the  ecclesiastical  power,  and  to  the  cupidity  of 
the  lay  nobles,  who  wished  to  seize  upon  the  property  of 
the  church.  They  have  thus  sought  to  explain  the  relig- 
ious revolution  merely  from  the  ill  side  of  men  and  human 
affairs,  by  suggestions  of  private  interests  and  personal 
passions. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  partisans  arid  friends  of  the 
reformation  have  endeavored  to  explain  it  merely  by  the 
necessity  for  reform  in  the  existing  abuses  of  the  church; 
they  have  represented  it  as  a  redressing  of  religious  griev- 
ances, as  an  attempt  conceived  and  executed  with  the  sole 
design  of  reconstituting  a  pure  and  primitive  church. 
Neither  of  these  explanations  seems  to  me  sound.  The 
second  has  more  truth  in  it  than  the  first;  at  least  it  is 
more  noble,  more  in  unison  with  the  extent  and  impor- 
tance of  the  event;  still  I  do  not  think  it  correct.  In  my 
opinion,  the  reformation  was  neither  an  accident,  the 
result  of  some  great  chance,  of  personal  interest,  nor  a 
mere  aim  at  religious  amelioration,  the  fruit  of  an  Utopia 
of  humanity  and  truth.  It  had  a  far  more  powerful  cause 
than  all  this,  and  which  dominates  over  all  particular 
causes.  It  was  a  great  movement  of  the  liberty  of  the 
human  mind,  a  new  necessity  for  freely  thinking  and  judg- 
ing on  its  own  account,  and  with  its  own  powers,  of  facts 
and  ideas  which  hitherto  Europe  had  received,  or  was  held 
bound  to  receive,  from  the  hands  of  authority.  It  was  a 
grand  attempt  at  the  enfranchisement  of  the  human  mind; 
and  to  call  things  by  their  proper  names,  an  insurrection 
of  the  human  mind  against  absolute  power  in  the  spiritual 
order.  Such  I  believe  to  be  the  true,  general  and  dom- 
inant character  of  the  reformation. 


OlYILIZATION  IIJ  EUROPE.  265 

When  we  consider  the  state,  at  this  epoch,  of  the  human 
mind  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  that  of  the  church 
which  governed  the  human  mind,  we  are  struck  by  this 
twofold  fact:  on  the  part  of  the  human  mind  there  was 
nftich  more  activity,  and  much  more  thirst  for  develop- 
ment and  empire  than  it  had  ever  felt.  This  new  activity 
was  the  result  of  various  causes,  but  which  had  been 
accumulating  for  ages.  For  example,  there  had  been  agea 
when  heresies  took  birth,  occupied  some  space  of  time,  fell, 
and  were  replaced  by  others;  and  ages  when  philosophical 
opinions  had  run  the  same  course  as  the  heresies.  The 
labor  of  the  human  mind,  whether  in  the  religious  or  in 
the  philosophical  sphere,  had  accumulated  from  the 
eleventh  to  the  sixteenth  century:  and  at  last  the  moment 
had  arrived  when  it  was  necessary  that  the  result  should 
appear.  Moreover,  all  the  means  of  instruction  created  or 
encouraged  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  church  bore  their 
fruits.  Schools  had  been  instituted:  from  these  schools 
had  issued  men  with  some  knowledge,  and  their  number 
was  daily  augmented.  These  men  wished  at  last  to  think 
for  themselves,  and  on  their  own  account,  for  they  felt 
stronger  than  they  had  ever  yet  done.  Finally  arrived  that 
renewal  and  regeneration  of  the  human  mind  by  the  resto- 
ration of  antiquity,  the  progress  and  effects  of  which  I  have 
described  to  you. 

The  union  of  all  these  causes  at  the  commencement  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  impressed  upon  the  mind  a  highly 
energetic  movement,  an  imperative  necessity  for  progress. 

The  situation  of  the  government  of  the  human  mind, 
the  spiritual  power,  was  quite  different;  it,  on  the  contrary, 
had  fallen  into  a  state  of  indolence  and  immobility.  The 
political  credit  of  the  church,  of  the  court  of  Rome,  had 
much  diminished;  European  society  no  longer  belonged  to 
it;  it  had  passed  into  the  dominion  of  lay  governments. 
Still  the  spiritual  power  preserveci  all  its  pretensions,  all  its 


866  HISTORY  OF 

splendor  and  external  importance.  It  happened  witli  it  as 
it  has  more  than  once  done  with  old  governments.  The 
greater  part  of  the  complaints  urged  against  it  were  no 
Ir.n^er  applied.  It  is  not  true  that  the  court  of  Eome  m 
f  Ae  sixteenth  century  was  very  tyrannical;  nor  is  it  true  tl>at 
its  abuses,  properly  so  called,  were  more  numerous,  or 
more  crying  than  they  had  been  in  other  times.  On  the 
contrary,  perbaps  ecclesiastical  government  had  never  been 
more  easy  and  tolerant,  more  disposed  to  let  all  things  take 
their  course,  provided  they  did  not  put  itself  in  question, 
provi  ded  it  was  so  far  acknowledged  as  to  be  left  in  the 
onjoyment  of  the  rights  which  it  had  hitherto  possessed, 
that  is  was  secured  the  same  existence  and  paid  the  same 
tributes.  It  would  willingly  have  left  the  human  mind  in 
tranquillity  if  the  human  mind  would  have  done  the  same 
toward  it.  But  it  is  precisely  when  governments  are  least 
held  in  consideration,  when  they  are  the  least  powerful, 
and  do  the  least  evil  that  they  are  attacked,  because  then 
they  can  be  attacked,  and  formerly  they  could  not  be. 

It  is  evident,  then,  by  the  mere  examination  of  the  state 
of  the  human  mind,  and  that  of  its  government  at  this 
epoch,  that  the  character  of  the  reformation  must  have 
been  a  new  impulse  of  liberty,  a  great  insurrection  of  the 
human  intellect.  Do  not  doubt  but  this  was  the  dominant 
cause,  the  cause  which  rose  above  all  the  others — a  cause 
superior  to  all  interests,  whether  of  nations  or  sovereigns — 
superior  also  to  any  mere  necessity  for  reform,  or  the 
necessity  for  redressing  of  grievances  which  were  then  com- 
plained of. 

I  will  suppose  that  after  tlie  first  years  of  the  reformat 
tion,  when  it  had  displayed  all  its  pretensions,  set  forth  ui) 
its  grievances,  the  spiritual  power  had  suddenly  fallen  iu 
with  its  views,  and  had  said,  *^Well,  so  be  it.  I  will 
reform  everything;  I  will  return  to  a  more  legal  and  relig- 
ious order;  I  will  suppress  all  vexations,  arbitrariness  and 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  267 

tributes;  even  in  doctrinal  matters,  I  will  modify,  explain, 
and  return  to  the  primitive  meaning.  But  when  all  griev- 
ances are  thus  redressed,  I  will  preserve  my  position — I 
will  be  as  formerly,  the  government  of  the  human  mind, with 
the  same  power  and  the  same  rights.'*  Do  you  suppose 
that  on  these  conditions  the  religious  revolution  would 
have  been  content,  and  would  have  stopped  its  progress? 
I  do  not  think  it.  I  firmly  believe  that  it  would  have  con- 
tinued its  career,  and  that  after  having  demanded  reforma- 
tion, it  would  have  demanded  liberty.  The  crisis  of  the 
sixteenth  century  was  not  merely  a  reforming  one,  it  was 
essentially  revolutionary.  It  is  impossible  to  take  from  it 
this  character,  its  merits  and  its  vices;  it  had  all  the  effects 
of  this  character. 

Let  us  cast  a  glance  upon  the  destinies  of  the  reforma- 
tion; let  us  see,  especially  and  before  all,  what  it  effected 
in  the  different  countries  where  it  was  developed.  Observe 
that  it  was  developed  in  very  various  situations,  and  amid 
very  unequal  chances.  If  we  find  that  in  spite  of  the 
diversity  of  situations,  and  the  inequality  of  chances,  it 
everywhere  pursued  a  certain  end,  obtained  a  certain  result, 
and  preserved  a  certain  character,  it  will  be  evident  that 
this  character,  which  surmounted  all  diversities  of  situa- 
tion, and  all  unequalties  of  chances,  must  have  been  the 
fundamental  character  of  the  event — that  this  result  must 
have  been  its  essential  aim. 

Well,  wherever  the  religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth 
century  prevailed,  if  it  did  not  eft'ect  the  entire  enfran- 
chisement of  the  human  mind,  it  procured  for  it  new  and 
very  great  increase  of  liberty.  It  doubtless  often  left  the 
mind  to  all  the  chances  of  the  liberty  or  servitude  of 
political  'nstitution;  but  it  abolished  or  disarmed  the 
spiritual  power,  the  systematic  and  formidable  government 
of  thought.  This  is  the  result  which  the  reformation 
attained  amid   the  most  various  combinations.     In  Ger- 


268  HISTORY  OF 

many  fchere  was  no  political  liberty;  nor  did  the  reforma- 
tion introduce  it.  It  fortified  rather  than  weakened  the 
power  of  princes.  It  was  more  against  the  free  institu- 
tions of  the  middle  ages  than  favorable  to  their  develop- 
mentc  Nevertheless,  it  resuscitated  and  maintained  in 
Germany  a  liberty  of  thought  greater,  perhaps,  than  any- 
where elsCo 

In  Denmark,  a  country  where  absolute  power  domi- 
nated, where  it  penetrated  into  the  municipal  institutions 
as  well  as  into  the  general  institutions  of  the  state,  there 
also,  by  the  influence  of  the  reformation,  thought  was 
enfranchised  and  freely  exercised  in  all  directions. 

In  Holland,  in  the  midst  of  a  republic,  and  in  England, 
tinder  constitutional  monarchy,  and  despite  a  religious 
tyranny  of  long  duration,  the  emancipation  of  the  human 
mind  was  likewise  accomplishedc  And,  lastly,  in  France, 
in  a  situation  which  seemed  the  least  favorable  to  the 
effects  of  the  religious  revolution,  in  a  country  where  it 
had  been  conquered,  there  even  it  was  a  principle  of  intel- 
lectual independence  and  liberty.  Down  to  1685,  that  is 
to  say,  until  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  the 
reformation  had  a  legal  existence  in  France.  During  this 
lengthened  period  it  wrote  and  discussed,  and  provoked  its 
adversaries  to  write  and  discuss  with  itc  This  single  fact, 
this  war  of  pamphlets  and  conferences  between  the  old  and 
new  opinions,  spread  in  France  a  liberty  far  more  real  and 
active  than  is  commonly  believed — a  liberty  which  tended 
to  the  profit  of  science^,  the  honor  of  the  French  clergy,  as 
well  as  to  the  profit  of  thought  in  general.  Take  a  glance 
at  the  conferences  of  Bossuet  with  Claude  upon  all  the 
religious  polemics  of  that  period,  and  ask  yourselves 
whether  Louis  XIV  would  have  allowed  a  similar  degree  of 
liberty  upon  any  other  subject.  It  was  between  the  reforma- 
tion and  the  opposite  party  that  there  existed  the  greatest 
degree  of  liberty  in  France  during  the  seventeenth  century. 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  26J> 

Religions  thought  was  then  far  more  bold,  and  treated 
questions  with  more  freedom  than  the  political  spirit  of 
Fenelon  himself  in  Telemachus,  This  state  of  things  did 
not  cease  until  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Xantes. 
Now,  from  1685  to  the  outburst  of  the  human  mind  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  there  were  not  forty  years;  and  the 
influence  of  the  religious  revolution  in  favor  of  intellectual 
liberty  had  scarcely  ceased  when  that  of  the  philosophical 
revolution  commenced. 

You  see  that  wherever  the  reformation  penetrated,  wher- 
ever it  played  an  important  part,  victorious  or  vanquished, 
it  had  as  a  general,  dominant  and  constant  result,  an 
immense  progress  in  the  activity  and  liberty  of  thought, 
and  toward  the  emancipation  of  the  human  mind. 

And  not  only  had  the  reformation  this  result,  but  with 
this  it  was  satisfied;  wherever  it  obtained  that,  it  sought 
for  nothing  further,  so  much  was  it  the  foundation  of  the 
event,  its  primitive  and  fundamental  character.  Thus,  in 
Germany  it  accepted,  I  will  not  say  political  servitude,  but, 
at  least,  the  absence  of  liberty.  In  England,  it  consented 
to  the  constitutional  hierarchy  of  the  clergy  and  the  pres- 
ence of  a  church  with  quite  as  many  abuses  as  there  had 
ever  been  in  the  Romish  church,  and  far  more  servile. 

Why  should  the  reformation,  so  passionate  and  stubborn 
in  some  respects,  show  itself  in  this  so  easy  and  pliant?  It 
was  because  it  had  obtained  the  general  fact  to  which  it 
tended,  the  abolition  of  spiritual  power,  the  enfrancliise- 
ment  of  the  human  mind.  I  repeat,  that  wherever  it 
atttained  this  end,  it  accommodated  itself  to  all  systems 
and  all  situations. 

Let  us  now  take  the  counter-proof  of  this  inquiry;  let  us 
see  what  happened  in  countries  into  which  the  religious 
revolution  had  not  penetrated,  where  it  had  been  stifled  in 
the  beginning,  where  it  had  never  been  developed.  History 
shows  that  there  the  human  mind  has  not  been  enfran- 


270  HISTORY  OF 

chised;  two  great  countries,  Spain  and  Italy,  will  prove 
this.  While  in  those  European  countries  where  the 
reformation  had  taken  an  important  place,  the  human 
mind,  during  the  three  last  centuries,  has  gained  an 
activity  and  a  freedom  before  unknown  in  those  where  it 
has  not  penetrated,  it  has  fallen,  during  the  same  period, 
into  effeminacy  and  indolence;  so  that  the  proof  and 
counter-proof  have  been  made,  so  to  speak,  simultaneously, 
and  given  the  same  result. 

Impulse  of  thought  and  the  abolition  of  absolute  power 
in  the  spiritual  order,  are  therefore  the  essential  character 
of  the  reformation,  the  most  general  result  of  its  influ- 
ence and  the  dominant  fact  of  its  destiny. 

I  designedly  say,  the  fact.  The  emancipation  of  the 
human  mind  was  in  reality,  in  the  course  of  the  reforma- 
tion, a  fact  rather  than  a  principle,  a  result  rather  than 
an  intention.  In  this  respect,  I  think  the  reformation 
executed  more  than  it  had  undertaken;  more  perhaps  than 
it  had  even  desired.  Contrary  to  most  other  resolutions, 
which  have  remained  far  behind  their  wishes,  of  which  the 
event  is  far  inferior  to  the  thought,  the  consequences  of 
the  revolution  surpassed  its  views;  it  is  greater  as  an  event 
than  as  a  plan;  what  it  effected  it  did  not  fully  foresee, 
nor  fully  avow. 

What  were  the  reproaches  with  which  its  adversaries 
constantly  upbraid  the  reformation?  Which  of  its  results 
did  they  in  a  manner  cast  in  its  teeth  to  reduce  it  to 
silence? 

Two  principal  ones.  First:  The  multiplicity  of  sects,  the 
prodigious  license  allowed  to  mind,  the  dissolutions  of  the 
religious  society  as  a  whole.  Second:  Tyranny  and  persecu- 
tion. '^  You  provoke  license/'  said  they  to  the  reformers; 
*^  you  even  produce  it;  and  when  you  have  created  it,  you 
wish  to  restrain  and  repress  it.  And  how  do  you  repress 
it?    By  the   most  severe  and  violent  meanSe     You  your^ 


CIVILIZATiaN  IN  EUROPE.  271 

selves  persecute  heresy,  and  by  virtue  of  an  illegitimate 
authority/* 

Survey  and  sum  up  all  the  great  attacks  directed  against 
the  reformation,  discarding  the  purely  dogmatical  ques- 
tions; these  are  the  two  fundamental  reproaches  to  which- 
they  reduce  themselves. 

The  reformed  party  was  greatly  embarrassed  by  them. 
When  they  imputed  to  it  the  municipality  of  sects,  instead 
of  avowing  them,  and  maintaining  the  legitimacy  of  their 
development,  it  anathematized  them,  deplored  their  exist- 
ence and  denied  them.  Taxed  with  persecution,  it  defended 
itself  with  the  same  embarrassment;  it  alleged  the  necessity: 
it  had,  it  said,  the  right  to  repress  and  punish  error,, 
because  it  was  in  the  possession  of  truth;  its  creed  and 
institutions  alone  were  legitimate;  and  if  the  Roman 
church  had  not  the  right  to  punish  the  reformers,  it  was- 
because  she  was  in  the  wrong  as  against  them. 

And  when  the  reproach  of  persecution  was  addressed  to- 
the  dominant  party  in  the  reformation,  not  by  its  enemies^ 
but  by  its  own  offspring,  when  the  sects  which  it  anathema- 
tized said  to  it,  ^'  We  only  do  what  you  have  done;  we  only 
separate  ourselves,  as  you  separated  yourselves,^^it  was  still 
more  embarrassed  for  an  answer,  and  often  only  replied  by 
redoubled  rigor. 

In  fact,  while  laboring  for  the  destruction  of  absolute 
power  in  the  spiritual  order,  the  revolution  of  the  sixteenth 
century  was  ignorant  of  the  true  principles  of  intellectual 
liberty,  it  enfranchised  the  human  mind,  and  yet  pretended 
to  govern  it  by  the  law;  in  practice  it  was  giving  prevalence 
to  free  inquiry,  and  in  theory  it  was  only  substituting  a. 
legitimate  in  place  of  an  illegimate  power.     It  did  nol 
elevate  itself  to  the  first  cause,  nor  descend  to  the  last  con- 
sequences of  its  work.     Thus  it  fell  into  a  double  fault;  on. 
the  one  hand,  it  neither  knew  nor  respected  all  the  right* 
of  human  thought;  at  the  momenb  that  it  clamored  for 


-Z72  HISTORY  OF 

i;hem  on  its  own  account,  it  violated  them  with  regard  to 
^others;  on  the  other  hand,  it  knew  not  how  to  measure  the 
rights  of  authority  in  the  intellectual  order;  I  do  not  speak 
of  coercive  authority,  which  in  such  matters  should  possess 
none,  but  of  purely  moral  authority,  acting  upon  the  mind 
alone,  and  simply  by  way  of  influence.  Something  is  want- 
ing in  most  of  the  reformed  countries,  to  the  good  organ 
ization  of  the  intellectual  society,  and  to  the  regular  actiot 
of  ancient  and  general  opinions.  They  could  not  reconcile 
the  rights  and  wants  of  tradition  with  those  of  liberty;  and 
the  cause  doubtless  lay  in  this  fact,  that  the  reformation 
did  not  fully  comprehend  and  receive  its  own  principles  and 
effects. 

Hence,  also,  it  had  a  certain  air  of  inconsistency  and  nar- 
row-mindedness, which  often  gave  a  hold  and  advantage 
-over  it  to  its  adversaries.  These  last  knew  perfectly  well 
what  they  did,  and  what  they  wished  to  do;  they  went 
back  to  the  principles  of  their  conduct,  and  avowed  all 
the  consequences  of  it.  There  was  never  a  government 
-more  consistent  and  systematic  that  than  of  the  Eoman 
church.  In  practice  the  court  of  Rome  has  greatly 
yielded  and  given  way,  much  more  so  than  the  reforma- 
tion; in  theory,  it  has  much  more  completely  adopted  its 
peculiar  system,  and  kept  to  a  much  more  coherent  con- 
duct. This  is  a  great  power,  this  full  knowledge  of  what 
one  does  and  wishes,  this  complete  and  rational  adoption 
of  a  doctrine  and  a  design.  The  religious  revolution 
of  the  sixteenth  century  presented  in  its  course  a  strik- 
ing example  of  it.  Every  one  knows  that  the  chief  power 
instituted  to  struggle  against  it  was  the  order  of  Jesuits. 
Throw  a  glance  upon  their  history;  the}'  have  everywhere 
failed.  Wherever  they  have  interfered  to  any  extent,  they 
iiave  carried  misfortune  into  the  cause  with  which  they 
mixed.  In  England  they  ruined  kings ;  in  Spain  the 
people.     The  general  course  of  events,  the  development  of 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  273^ 

modern  civilization,  the  liberty  of  the  human  mind,  all 
these  powers  against  which  the  Jesuits  were  called  upon  to 
contest,  fought  and  conquered  them.     And  not  only  have 
they  failed,  but  call  to  mind  the  means   they  have  been 
obliged  to  employ.     No  splendor  or  grandeur;  they  brought 
about  no  great  events,  nor  put  in  motion  powerful  masses 
of  men;  they  have  acted  only  by  underhanded,  obscure  and 
subordinate  means;  by  ways  which  are  nothing  suited  to 
strike  the  imagination,  to  conciliate  that  public  interest 
which  attaches  to  great  things,   whatever  may  be  their 
principle  or  end.     The  party  against  which  it  struggled, 
on  the  contrary,  not  only  conquered,  but  conquered  with 
splendor;   it  did   great  things,    and  by  great   means;   it 
aroused  the  people,  it  gave  to   Europe   great   men,  and 
changed,  in  the  face  of  day,  the  fashion  and  form  of  states. 
In  a  word,  everything  was  against  the  Jesuits,  both  fortune- 
and  appearances;  neither  srood  sense  which  desires  success, 
nor  imagination  which  requires  splendor,  were  satisfied  by" 
their  career.     And  yet  nothing  can  be  more  certain  than 
that  they  have  had  grandeur;  that  a  great  idea  is  attached 
to  their  name,  their  influence,  and  their  history.     How  so?" 
It  is  because  they  knew  what  they  were  doing,  and  what 
they  desired  to  do;  because  they  had  a  full  and  clear  ac- 
quaintance with  the  principles  upon  which  they  acted,  and 
the  aim  to  which  they  tended;  that  is  to  say,  they  had 
greatness  of  thought  and  greatness  of  will,  and  this  saved 
them  from  the  ridicule  which  attaches  itself  to  constant 
reverses  and  contemptible  means.     Where,  on  the  contrary, 
the  event  was  greater  than  the  thought,  where  the  actors 
appeared  to  want  a  knowledge  of  the  first  principles  and 
last  results  of  their  action,  there  remained  something  in- 
complete, inconsistent  and  narrow,  which  placed  the  con- 
querors themselves  in  a  sort  of  rational  and  philosophical 
inferiority,  of  which  the  influence  has  been  sometimes  felt 
In  events.     This  was,  I  conceive,  in  the  struggle  of  the- 


«74  ET8T0RY  OF 

old  against  the  new  spiritual  order,  the  weak  side  of  the 
reformation,  the  circumstance  which  often  embarrassed  it, 
and  hindered  it  from  defending  itself  as  it  ought  to  have 
done. 

We  might  consider  the  religious  revolution  of  the  six- 
teenth  century  under  many  other  aspects.  I  have  said 
nothing,  and  have  nothing  to  say,  concerning  its  dogmas, 
concerning  its  effect  on  religion,  and  in  regard  to  the  rela- 
tions of  the  human  soul  with  God  and  the  eternal  future; 
but  1  might  exhibit  it  to  you  in  the  diversity  of  its  rela- 
tions with  the  social  order,  bringing  on,  in  all  directions, 
results  of  mighty  importance.  For  instance,  it  awoke 
religion  amid  the  laity,  and  in  the  world  of  the  faithful. 
Up  to  that  time,  religion  had  been,  so  to  speak,  the  exclu- 
sive domain  of  the  clergy,  of  the  ecclesiastical  order,  who 
distributed  the  fruits,  but  disposed  themselves  of  the  tree, 
and  had  almost  alone  the  right  to  speak  of  it.  The  refor- 
mation caused  a  general  circulation  of  religious  creeds;  it 
opened  to  believers  the  field  of  faith,  which  hitherto  they 
had  had  no  right  to  enter.  It  had,  at  the  same  time,  a 
second  result — it  banished,  or  nearly  banished,  religion 
from  politics;  it  restored  the  independence  of  the  temporal 
power.  At  the  very  moment  when,  so  to  speak,  religion 
came  again  to  the  possession  of  the  faithful,  it  quitted  the 
government  of  society.  In  the  reformed  countries,  not- 
withstanding the  diversity  of  ecclesiastical  constitutions, 
even  in  England,  where  that  constitution  is  nearer  to  the 
ancient  order  of  things,  the  spiritual  power  no  longer 
makes  any  serious  pretensions  to  the  direction  of  the  tem- 
poral power. 

I  might  enumerate  many  other  consequences  of  the 
reformation,  but  I  must  check  myself,  and  rest  content 
with  having  placed  before  you  its  principal  character,  the 
emancipation  of  the  human  mind,  and  the  abolition  of 
absolute  power  iu  the  spiritual  order — an  abolition  which( 


CIVILIZA  TION  m  EUROPE,  275 

no  doubt,  was  not  complete,  but  nevertheless  formed  the 
greatest  step  that  has,  up  to  our  days,  been  taken  in  this 
direction. 

Before  concluding,  I  must  pray  you  to  remark  the  strik- 
ing similarity  of  destiny  which,  in  the  history  of  modern 
Europe,  presents  itself  as  existing  between  the  civil  and 
religious  societies,  in  the  revolutions  to  which  they  have 
been  subject. 

The  Christian  society,  as  we  saw  when  I  spoke  of  the 
church,  began  by  being  a  perfectly  free  society,  and  formed 
solely  in  virtue  of  a  common  creed,  without  institutions  or 
government,  properly  so  called,  and  regulated  only  by 
moral  powers,  varying  according  to  the  necessity  of  the 
moment.  Civil  society  commenced  in  like  manner  in 
Europe,  or  partially  at  least,  with  bands  of  barbarians;  a 
society  perfectly  free,  each  one  remaining  in  it  because  he 
thought  proper,  without  laws  or  constituted  powers.  At 
the  close  of  this  state,  which  could  not  co-exist  with  any 
considerable  development,  religious  society  placed  itself 
under  an  essentially  aristocratic  government;  it  was  the 
body  of  the  clergy,  the  bishops,  councils  and  ecclesiastical 
aristocracy,  which  governed  it.  A  fact  of  the  same  kind 
happened  in  civil  society  at  the  termination  of  barbarism; 
it  was  the  lay  aristocracy,  the  lay  feudal  chiefs,  by  which  it 
was  governed.  Religious  society  left  the  aristocratic  form 
to  assume  that  of  pure  monarchy;  that  is  the  meaning  of 
the  triumph  of  the  court  of  Rome  over  the  councils  and 
over  the  European  ecclesiastical  aristocracy.  The  same 
revolution  accomplished  itself  in  civil  society:  it  was  by 
the  destruction  of  aristocratical  power  that  royalty  pre- 
vailed and  took  possession  of  the  European  world.  In  the 
sixteenth  century,  in  the  bosom  of  religious  society,  an  in- 
surrection burst  forth  against  the  system  of  pure  monarchy.^ 
against  absolute  power  in  the  spiritual  order.  This  revolu- 
tion brought  on,  consecrated,  and  established  free  inquiry 


276  HISTORY  OF 

in  Europe.  In  our  own  days  we  have  seen  the  same  event 
occurring  in  the  civil  order.  Absolute  temporal  power  was 
;attacked  and  conquered.  Thus  you  have  seen  that  the 
two  societies  have  undergone  the  same  vicissitudes,  have 
been  subject  to  the  same  revolutions;  only  religious  society 
has  always  been  the  foremost  in  this  career. 

We  are  now  in  possession  of  one  of  the  great  facts  of 
modern  society,  namely,  free  inquiry,  the  liberty  of  the 
human  mind.  We  have  seen  that,  at  the  same  time,  polit- 
ical centralization  almost  everywhere  prevailed.  In  my 
next  lecture  I  shall  treat  of  the  English  revolution;  that  is 
to  say,  of  the  event  in  which  free  inquiry  and  pure  mon- 
archy, both  results  of  the  progress  of  civilization,  found 
themselves  for  the  first  time  in  conflict. 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  277 


THIRTEENTH  LECTURE. 

Object  of  the  lecture — General  character  of  the  English  revolution — 
Its  principal  causes — It  was  more  political  than  religious — The 
three  great  parties  in  it:  1.  The  party  of  legal  reform;  2.  The 
party  of  the  political  rt^volution;  3.  The  party  of  the  social  revo- 
lution— They  all  fail — Cromwell — The  restoration  of  the 
Stuarts — The  legal  ministry — ^The  profligate  ministry — The. 
revolution  of  1688  in  England  and  Europe. 

You  have  seen  that  during  the  sixteenth  century  all  the 
elements  and  features  that  had  belonged  to  former  Euro- 
pean society  resolved  themselves  into  two  great  facts,  free 
inquiry  and  the  centralization  of  power.  The  first  pre- 
vailed among  the  clergy,  the  second  among  the  laity. 
There  simultaneously  triumphed  in  Europe  the  emancipa- 
tion of  the  human  mind,  and  the  establishment  of  pure 
monarchy. 

It  was  scarcely  to  be  expected  but  that  sooner  or  later  a 
struggle  should  arise  between  these  two  principles;  for  they 
were  contradictor.y;  the  one  was  the  overthrow  of  absolute 
power  in  the  spiritual  order,  the  other  was  its  victory  in 
the  temporal;  the  first  paved  the  way  for  the  decay  of  the 
ancient  ecclesiastical  monarchy,  the  last  perfected  the  ruin 
of  the  ancient  feudal  and  communal  liberties.  The  fact  of 
their  advent  being  simultaneous,  arose,  as  you  have  seen, 
from  the  revolution  in  religious  society  advancing  with  a 
more  rapid  step  than  that  in  the  civil  society:  the  one  oc- 
curred exactly  at  the  time  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the 
individual  mind,  the  other  not  until  the  moment  of  the 
centralization  of  universal  power  under  one  head.     The 


278  HISTORY  GF 

coincidence  of  these  two  facts,  so  far  from  springing  out 
of  their  similitude,  did  not  prevent  their  inconsistency. 
They  were  each  advances  in  the  course  of  civilization,  but 
they  were  advances  arising  from  dissimilar  situations,  and 
of  a  different  moral  date,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expres- 
sion, although  contemporary.  That  they  should  run 
against  one  another  before  they  came  to  an  understanding 
was  inevitable. 

Their  first  collision  was  in  England.  In  the  struggle  of 
free  inquiry,  the  fruit  of  the  reformation,  against  the  ruin 
of  political  liberty,  the  fruit  of  the  triumph  of  pure  mon- 
archy; and  in  the  effort  to  abolish  absolute  power,  both  in 
the  temporal  and  spiritual  orders,  we  have  the  purport  of 
the  English  revolution,  its  share  in  the  course  of  our 
civilization. 

The  question  arises,  why  should  this  struggle  take  place 
in  England  sooner  than  elsewhere?  Wherefore  should  the 
revolutions  in  the  political  order  have  coincided  more 
closely  with  those  in  the  moral  order  in  that  country  than 
on  the  continent? 

Eoyalty  in  England  has  undergone  the  same  vicissitudes 
as  on  the  continent.  Under  the  Tudors  it  attained  to  a 
concentration  and  energy  which  it  has  never  known  since. 
It  does  not  follow  that  the  despotism  of  the  Tudors  was 
more  violent,  or  that  it  cost  dearer  to  England  than  that 
of  their  predecessors.  I  believe  that  there  were  at  least  as  ^ 
many  acts  of  tyranny  and  instances  of  vexation  and  in- 
justice under  the  Plantagenets  as  under  the  Tudors,  perhaps 
even  more.  And  I  believe,  likewise,  that  at  this  era  the 
government  of  pure  monarchy  was  more  harsh  and  arbitrary 
on  the  continent  than  in  England.  The  new  feature  under 
the  Tudors  was  that  absolute  power  became  systematic; 
royalty  assumed  a  primitive  and  independent  sovereignty; 
it  adopted  a  style  hitherto  unknown.  The  theoretical  pre- 
tensions of  Henry  VIII,  of  Elizabeth,  of  James  I,  or  of 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  279 

Charles  I,  are  entirely  different  to  those  of  Edward  1  or 
Edward  III;  though  the  power  of  these  two  last  kings  was 
neither  less  arbitrary  nor  less  extensive.  I  repeat,  that  it 
was  the  principle,  the  rational  system  of  monarchy,  rather 
than  its  practical  power,  which  experienced  a  mutation  in 
England  during  the  sixteenth  century;  royalty  assumed 
absolute  power,  and  pretended  to  be  superior  to  all  laws, 
to  thope  even  which  it  had  declared  should  be  respected. 

Again,  the  religious  revolution  was  not  accomplished  in 
England  in  the  same  manner  as  on  the  continent;  here  it 
was  the  work  of  the  kings  themselves.  Not  but  that  in 
this  country,  as  elsewhere,  there  had  long  been  the  germs 
of,  and  even  attempts  at  a  popular  reformation,  which 
would  probably,  ere  long,  have  been  carried  out.  But 
Henry  VIII  took  the  initiative;  power  became  revolution- 
ary. The  result  was  that,  in  its  origin  at  least,  as  a  redress 
of  ecclesiastical  tyranny  and  abuse,  and  as  the  emancipa- 
tion of  the  human  mind,  the  reformation  was  far  less  com- 
plete in  England  than  on  the  continent.  It  consulted,  and 
very  naturally,  the  interest  of  its  authors.  The  king  and 
the  retained  episcopacy  shared  the  riches  and  power,  the 
spoils  of  the  preceding  government,  of  the  papacy.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  consequence  was  felt.  It  was  said  that 
the  reformation  was  finished;  yet  most  of  the  motives 
which  had  made  it  necessary  still  existec?,  It  reappeared 
under  a  popular  form;  it  exclaimed  against  the  bishops  as 
it  had  done  against  the  court  of  Rome;  it  accused  Shem  of 
being  so  many  popes.  As  often  as  the  general  character  of 
the  religious  reformation  was  compromised,  whenever  there 
was  a  question  of  a  struggle  with  the  ancient  church,  all 
portions  of  the  reformed  party  rallied  and  made  head 
against  the  common  enemy;  but  the  danger  passed,  the 
interior  struggle  recommenced;  popular  reform  again 
attacked  regal  and  aristocratical  reform,  denounced  its 
abuses,  complained  of  its  tyranny,   called  upon  it  for  a 


280  BISTORT  OF 

fullfilment  of  its  promises,  and  not  again  to  establish  the 
power  which  it  had  dethroned. 

There  was,  about  the  same  time,  a  movement  of  enfran- 
chisement manifested  in  civil  society,  a  need  for  political 
freedom,  till  then  unknown,  or  at  least  powerless.  During 
the  sixteenth  century  the  commercial  prosperity  of  Eng- 
land increased  with  excessive  rapidity ;  at  the  same 
time  territorial  wealth,  landed  property,  in  a  great 
measure  changed  hands.  The  division  of  land  in  Eng- 
land in  the  sixteenth  century,  consequent  on  the  ruin 
of  the  feudal  aristocracy  and  other  causes,  too  many 
for  present  enumeration,  is  a  fact  deserving  more  at- 
tention than  has  yet  been  given  to  it.  All  documents 
show  us  the  number  of  landed  proprietors  increasing 
to  an  immense  extent,  and  the  larger  portion  of  the 
lands  passing  into  the  hands  of  the  gentry,  or  inferior 
nobility,  and  the  citizens.  The  upper  house,  the  higher 
nobility,  was  not  nearly  so  rich  at  the  commencement  of 
the  seventeenth  century  as  the  House  of  Commons.  There 
^as  then  at  the  same  time  a  great  development  of  commer- 
cial wealth,  and  a  great  mutation  in  landed  property. 
Amid  these  two  influences  came  a  third — the  new  move- 
ment in  the  minds  of  men.  The  reign  of  Elizabeth  is, 
perhaps,  the  greatest  period  of  English  history  for  literary 
and  philosophical  activity,  the  era  of  lofty  and  fertile 
imaginations;  the  puritans  without  hesitation  followed  out 
all  the  consequences  of  a  vigorous  although  narrow  doc- 
trine; the  opposite  class  of  minds,  less  moral  and  more 
free,  strangers  to  any  principle  or  method,  jeeeived  with 
enthusiasm  everything  which  promised  to  satisfy  their 
curiosity  or  feed  their  excitement.  Wherever  the  impulse 
of  intelligence  brings  with  it  a  lively  pleasure,  liberty  will 
soon  become  a  want,  and  will  quickly  pass  from  the  public 
mind  into  the  government. 

There  was  on  the  Continent,  in  some  of  those  countries 


CIVILIZATI02S  IN  EUROPE.  281 

where  the  reformation  had  gone  forth,  a  manifestation  of 
a  similar  feeling,  a  certain  want  of  political  liberty  ;  but 
the  means  of  satisfying  it  were  wanting;  they  knew  not 
where  to  look  for  it;  no  aid  for  it  could  be  found  either  in 
the  institutions  or  in  manners;  they  remained  vague  and 
uncertain,  seeking  in  vain  to  satisfy  their  want.  In  Eng 
land,  it  was  very  different:  there  the  spirit  of  political 
freedom,  which  reappeared  in  the  sixteenth  century,  fol- 
lowing the  reformation,  found  its  fulcrum  and  the  means 
of  action  in  the  ancient  institutions  and  social  condit- 
ions. 

Every  one  knows  the  origin  of  the  free  institutions  of 
England;  it  is  universally  known  how  the  union  of  the 
great  barons  in  1215  forced  Magna  Charta  from  King 
John.  What  is  not  so  generally  known  is  that  the  great 
charter  was  from  time  to  time  recalled  and  again  confirmed 
by  most  of  the  succeeding  kings.  There  were  more  than 
thirty  confirmations  of  it  between  the  thirteenth  and  the 
sixteenth  centuries.  And  not  only  was  the  charter  con- 
firmed, but  new  statutes  were  introduced  for  the  purpose  of 
maintaining  and  developing  it.  It  therefore  lived,  as  it 
w^ere,  without  inverval  or  interruption.  At  the  same  time, 
the  House  of  Commons  was  formed,  and  took  its  place 
among  the  supreme  institutions  of  the  country.  It  was 
under  the  Plantagenets  that  it  truly  struck  root;  not  that'' 
it  took  any  great  part  in  the  state  during  that  period;  tho 
government  did  not,  properly  speaking,  belong  to  it  even 
in  the  way  of  influence;  it  only  interfered  therein  at  the 
call  of  the  king,  and  then  always  reluctantly  and  hesitat- 
ingly, as  if  it  was  more  fearful  of  engaging  and  compro- 
mising itself  than  desirous  of  augmenting  its  power.  But 
when  the  matter  in  hand  was  the  defence  of  private  rights, 
the  families  of  fortune  of  the  citizens,  in  a  word,  the 
liberties  of  the  individual,  the  House  of  Commons  acquitted 
itself  of  its  duty  with  much  energy  and  perseverance,  and 


282  BI8T0RY  OF 

founded  all  those  principles  which  have  become  the  basis 
of  the  English  constitution. 

After  the  Plantagenets,  and  especially  under  the  Tudors, 
the  House  of  Commons,  or  rather  the  entire  Parliament, 
presented  itself  under  a  different  aspect.  It  no  longei 
(defended  the  individual  liberties,  as  under  the  Planta 
genets.  Arbitrary  detentions,  the  violation  of  private 
rights,  now  become  much  more  frequent,  are  often  passed 
over  in  silence.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Parliament  took  a 
much  more  active  part  in  the  general  government  of  the, 
state.  In  changing  the  religion,  and  in  regulating  the 
order  of  succession,  Henry  VIII  had  need  of  some 
medium,  some  public  instrument,  and  in  this  want  he  was 
supplied  by  the  Parliament,  and  especially  by  the  House  of 
Commons.  Under  the  Plantagenets  it  had  been  an  in- 
strument of  resistance,  the  guardian  of  private  rights; 
under  the  Tudors  it  became  an  instrument  of  government 
and  general  policy;  so  that  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, although  it  had  undergone  almost  every  species  of 
tyranny,  its  importance  was  much  augmented,  its  great 
power  began,  that  power  upon  which  the  representative 
government  depends. 

When  we  glance  at  the  state  of  the  free  institutions  of 
England  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  we  find  first, 
fundamental  rules  and  principles  of  liberty,  of  which 
neither  the  country  nor  the  legislature  had  ever  lost  sight; 
second,  precedents,  examples  of  liberty,  a  good  deal  mixed, 
5^.  is  true,  with  inconsistent  examples  and  precedents,  but 
sufficing  to  legalize  and  sustain  the  claims,  and  to  support 
the  defenders  of  liberty  in  any  struggle  against  tyranny 
or  despotism;  thirds  special  and  local  institutions,  replete 
with  germs  of  liberty;  the  jury,  the  right  of  assembling, 
and  of  being  armed;  the  independence  of  municipal  ad- 
ministrations and  jurisdictions;  fourth,  and  last,  the  Par- 
liament and  its  power,  of  which  the  crown  had  more  need 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  283 

than  ever,  since  it  had  lavished  away  the  greater  part  of 
its  independent  revenues,  domains/  feudal  rights,  etc., 
and  was  dependent  for  its  very  support  upon  the  national 
vote. 

The  political  condition  of  England,  therefore,  in  the  six- 
'  teenth  century  was  wholly  different  from  that  of  the  conti- 
nent. In  spite  of  the  tyranny  of  the  Tudors,  and  the 
systematic  triumph  of  pure  monarchy,  there  was  still  a 
fixed  fulcrum,  a  sure  means  of  action  for  the  new  spirit  of 
liberty. 

There  were,  then,  two  national  wants  in  England  at  this 
period:  on  one  side  was  the  need  of  religious  revolution 
and  liberty  in  the  heart  of  the  reformation  already  com- 
menced; and  on  the  other,  was  required  political  liberty  in 
the  heart  of  the  pure  monarchy  then  in  progress;  and  in 
the  course  of  their  progress  these  two  wants  were  able  to 
invoke  all  that  had  already  been  done  in  either  direction. 
They  combined.  The  party  who  wished  to  pursue  religious 
reformation  invoked  political  liberty  to  the  assistance  of 
its  faith  and  conscience  against  the  king  and  the  bishops. 
The  friends  of  political  liberty  again  sought  the  aid  of  the 
popular  reformation.  The  two  parties  united  to  struggle 
against  absolute  power  in  the  temporal  and  in  the  spir- 
itual orders,  a  power  now  concentrated  in  the  hands  of 
the  king.  This  is  the  origin  and  purport  of  the  English 
revolution. 

It  was  thus  essentially  devoted  to  the  defence  or  achieve 
ment  of  liberty.  For  the  religious  party  it  was  a  means, 
and  for  the  political  party  an  end;  but  with  both  liberty 
was  the  question,  and  they  were  obliged  to  pursue  it  in 
common.  There  was  no  real  religious  quarrel  between  the 
Episcopal  and  Puritan  party;  little  dispute  upon  dogmas, 
or  concerning  faith;  not  but  there  existed  real  differences 
of  opinion  between  them,  differences  of  great  importance; 
but  this  was  not  the  principal  point.     Practical  liberty  was 


284  HISTORY  OF 

what  the  Puritans  wished  to  force  from  the  Episcopal 
party:  it  was  for  this  that  they  strove.  There  was  also 
another  religious  party  -who  had  to  found  a  system,  to  es- 
tablish its  dogmas,  ecclesiastical  constitution,  and  discipline; 
this  was  the  Presbyterian  party:  but  although  it  worked  to 
the  atmost  of  its  power,  it  did  not  in  this  point  progress 
in  proportion  to  its  desire.  Placed  on  the  defensive,  op- 
pressed by  the  bishops,  unable  to  act  without  the  assent  of 
the  political  reformers,  its  allies  and  chief  supporters,  its 
dominant  aim  was  liberty,  the  general  interest  and  common 
aim  of  all  the  parties,  whatever  their  diversity,  who  con- 
curred in  the  movement.  Taking  every  thing  together, 
the  English  revolution  was  essentially  political;  it  was 
brought  about  in  the  midst  of  a  religious  people  and  in 
a  religious  age;  religious  thoughts  and  passions  were  its 
instruments;  but  its  chief  design  and  definite  aim  were 
political,  were  devoted  to  liberty,  and  the  abolition  of  all 
absolute  power. 

I  shall  now  glance  at  the  different  phases  of  this  revolu*- 
tion  and  its  great  parties;  I  shall  then  connect  it  with  the 
general  course  of  European  civilization;  I  shall  mark  its 
place  and  influence  therein;  and  show  you  by  a  detail  of 
the  facts,  as  at  the  first  view,  that  it  was  the  first  blow 
which  had  been  struck  in  the  cause  of  free  inquiry  and 
pure  monarchy,  the  first  manifestation  of  a  struggle  between 
these  two  great  powers. 

Three  principal  parties  sprung  np  in  this  great  crisis,  < 
three  revolutions  in  a  manner  were  comprised  in  it,  and 
successively  appeared  upon  the  scene.  In  each  party,  and 
in  each  revolution,  two  parties  are  allied,  and  work  con- 
jointly, a  political  and  a  religious  party;  the  first  at  the 
head,  the  second  followed,  but  each  necessary  to  the  other; 
so  that  the  twofold  character  of  the  event  is  impressed 
upon  all  its  phases. 

The  first  party  which  appeared  was  the  party  of  legal 


CIVILIZATION  m  EUROPE,  285 

reform,  under  whose  banner  all  the  others  at  first  ranged 
themselves.  When  the  English  revolution  commenced, 
when  the  Long  Parliament  was  assembled  in  1640,  it  was 
universally  said,  and  by  many  sincerely  believed,  that  the 
legal  reform  would  suffice  for  all  things;  that  in  the  ancient 
laws  and  customs  of  the  country  there  was  that  which 
would  remedy  all  abuses,  and  which  would  re-establish  a 
system  of  government  entirely  conformable  to  the  public 
wishes.  This  party  loudly  censured  and  sincerely  wished 
to  prevent  the  illegal  collecting  of  taxes,  arbitrary  im- 
prisonments, in  a  word,  all  acts  disallowed  by  the  known 
laws  of  the  country.  At  the  root  of  its  ideas  was  the 
belief  in  the  king^s  sovereignty  —  that  is,  in  ab- 
solute power.  A  secret  instinct  warned  it,  indeed, 
that  there  was  something  false  and  dangerous  therein;  it 
wished,  therefore,  to  say  nothing  of  it;  pushed  to  the 
extremity,  however,  and  forced  to  explain  itself,  it  admit" 
ted  in  royalty  a  power  superior  to  all  human  origin,  and 
above  all  control,  and,  when  need  was,  defended  it.  It  be- 
lieved at  the  same  time  that  this  sovereignty,  absolute  in 
theory,  was  bound  to  observe  certain  forms  and  rules;  that 
it  could  not  extend  beyond  certain  limits;  and  these  rules, 
forms  and  limits  were  sufficiently  established  and  guaran- 
teed in  the  great  charter,  in  the  confirmatory  statutes,  and 
in  the  ancient  laws  of  the  country.  Such  was  its  political 
idea.  In  religious  matters,  the  legal  party  thought  that 
the  Episcopal  power  was  excessive;  that  the  bishops  had  too 
much  political  power,  that  their  jurisdiction  was  too  ex- 
tensive, and  that  it  was  necessary  to  overlook  and  restrain 
its  exercise.  Still  it  firmly  supported  the  episcopacy,  not 
only  as  an  ecclesiastical  institution,  and  as  a  system  of 
church  government,  but  as  a  necessary  support  for  the 
royal  prerogative,  as  a  means  of  defending  and  maintaining 
the  supremacy  of  the  king  in  religious  matters.  The  sov- 
ereignty of  the  king  in  the  political  order  being  exercised 


286  HISTORY  OF 

according  to  known  forms,  and  within  the  limits  of  ac- 
knowledged rules,  royalty  in  the  religious  order  should  be 
sustained  by  the  episcopacy;  such  was  the  two-fold  system 
of  the  legal  party,  of  which  the  chiefs  were  Clarendon, 
Colepepper,  Lord  Capel,  and  Lord  Falkland  himself,  a] 
'though  an  ardent  advocate  of  public  liberty,  and  a  man 
who  numbered  in  his  ranks  almost  all  the  high  nobility  who 
were  not  servilely  devoted  to  the  court. 

Behind  these  followed  a  second  party,  which  I  shall  call 
the  party  of  the  political  revolution;  these  were  of  opinion 
that  the  ancient  guarantees  and  legal  barriers  had  been 
and  still  were  insufficient;  that  a  great  change,  a  regular 
revolution  was  necessary,  not  in  the  forms,  but  in  the  reali- 
ties of  government:  that  it  was  necessary  to  withdraw  from 
the  king  and  his  counsel  the  independence  of  their  power, 
and  to  place  the  political  preponderance  in  the  House  of 
Commons;  that  the  government,  properly  so  called,  should 
belong  to  this  assembly  and  its  chiefs.  This  party  did  not 
give  an  account  of  their  ideas  and  intentions  as  clearly  and 
systematically  as  I  have  done;  but  this  was  the  essence  of 
its  doctrines,  of  its  political  tendencies.  Instead  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  king,  pure  monarchy,  it  believed  in  the 
sovereignty  of  the  House  of  Commons  as  the  representative 
of  the  country.  Under  this  idea  was  hidden  that  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  people,  an  idea,  the  bearing  of  which 
and  its  consequences,  the  party  was  very  far  from  contem- 
plating, but  which  presented  itself,  and  was  received  undei 
the  form  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

A  religious  party,  that  of  the  Presbyterians,  was  closely 
united  with  the  party  of  the  political  revolution.  The 
Presbyterians  wished  to  bring  about  in  the  church  a  revo- 
lution analogous  to  that  meditated  by  their  allies  in  the 
state.  They  wished  to  govern  the  church  by  assemblies, 
giving  the  religious  power  to  an  hierarchy  of  assemblages 
agreeing  one  with  the  other,  as  their  allies  had  invested 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE,  ;iB7 

the  House  of  Commons  with  the  political  power.  But  the 
Presbyterian  revolution  was  more  vigorous  and  complete, 
for  it  tended  to  change  the  form  as  well  as  the  principle  of 
the  government  of  the  church,  while  the  political  party 
wished  only  to  moderate  the  influences  and  preponderating 
power  of  institutions,  did  not  meditate  an  overthrow  of  the 
form  of  the  institutions  themselves. 

But  the  chiefs  of  the  political  party  were  not  all  of  them 
favorable  to  the  Presbyterian  organization  of  the  church. 
Many  of  them,  as  for  instance,  Hampden  and  Holies, would 
have  preferred,  it  seems,  a  moderate  episcopacy,  confined  to 
purely  ecclesiastical  duties,  and  more  freedom  of  conscience. 
But  they  resigned  themselves  to  it,  being  unable  to  do  with- 
out their  fanatical  allies. 

A  third  party  was  yet  more  exorbitant  in  its  demands : 
this  party  asserted  that  an  entire  change  was  necessary,  not 
only  in  the  form  of  government,  but  in  government  itself ; 
that  the  whole  political  constitution  was  bad.  This  party 
repudiated  the  past  ages  of  England,  renounced  the  national 
institutions  and  memories,  with  the  intention  of  founding 
a  new  government,  according  to  a  pure  theory,  or  what  it 
supposed  to  be  such.  It  was  not  a  mere  reform  in  the  gov- 
ernment, but  a  social  revolution  which  this  party  wished 
to  bring  about.  They  party  of  which  I  just  now  spoke, 
that  of  the  political  revolution,  wished  to  introduce 
important  changes  in  the  relations  between  the  Parlia- 
ment and  the  crown ;  it  wished  to  extend  the 
power  of  Parliament,  particularly  that  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  giving  them  the  nomination  to  high  public 
offices,  and  the  supreme  direction  in  general  affairs;  but 
its  project  of  reform  extended  very  little  further  than  this. 
For  instance,  it  had  no  idea  of  changing  the  electoral, 
judicial  or  municipal  and  administrative  systems  of  the 
country.  The  republican  party  meditated  on  all  these 
changes,  and  proclaimed  their  necessity;  and,  in  a  word. 


288  HISTORY  OF 

wished  to  reform,  not  only  the  public  administration,  but 
also  the  social  relations  and  the  distribution  of  private 
rights. 

This  party,  like  that  which  preceded  it,  was  partly  relig- 
ious and  partly  political.  The  political  portion  included 
the  republicans,  properly  so  called,  the  theorists,  Ludlow, 
Harrington,  Milton,  etc.  On  that  side  were  ranged  the 
republicans  from  interest,  the  cliief  officers  of  the  army, 
Ireton,  Cromwell  and  Lambert,  who,  more  or  less  sincere 
at  the  onset,  were  soon  swayed  and  guided  by  interested 
views  and  the  necessities  of  their  situations.  Around  these 
collected  the  religious  republican  party,  which  included  all 
those  enthusiasts  who  acknowledged  no  legitimate  power 
except  that  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  who,  while  waiting  for  hig 
advent,  wished  to  be  governed  by  his  elect.  And,  lastly, 
the  party  was  followed  by  a  large  number  of  inferior  free- 
thinkers, and  fantastical  dreamers,  the  one  set  in  hope  of 
license,  the  other  of  equality  of  property  and  universal 
suffrage. 

In  1653,  after  a  struggle  of  twelve  years,  all  these  parties 
had  successively  failed,  at  least,  they  had  reason  to  believe 
they  had  failed,  and  the  public  was  convinced  of  theii 
failure.  The  legal  party,  which  quickly  disappeared,  had 
seen  the  ancient  laws  and  constitution  disdained  and  trodden 
under  foot,  and  innovation  visible  upon  every  side.  The 
party  of  political  reform  saw  parliamentary  forms  perish 
under  the  new  use  which  they  wished  to  make  of  them;  they 
saw  the  House  of  Commons  after  a  sway  of  twelve  years, 
reduced  by  the  successive  expulsion  of  the  royalists  and  the 
Presbyterians  to  a  very  trifling  number  of  members,  and 
those  looked  upon  by  the  public  with  contempt  and  detes- 
tation, and  incapable  of  governing.  The  republican  party 
seemed  to  have  succeeded  better:  it  remained,  to  all 
appearance,  master  of  the  field  of  battle,  of  power;  the 
House  of  Commons  reckoned  no  more  than  from  fifty  to 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  289 

sixty  members,  and  all  of  these  were  republicans.  They 
might  fairly  deem  themselves  and  declare  themselves  mas- 
ters of  the  country.  But  the  country  absolutely  rejected 
them;  they  could  nowhere  carry  their  resolutions  into 
effect;  the}"  exercised  no  practical  influence  either  over  the 
army  or  over  the  people.  There  no  longer  subsisted  any 
social  tie,  any  social  security;  justice  was  no  longer  admin- 
istered, or,  if  it  was,  it  was  no  longer  justice,  but  the 
arbitrary  rendering  of  decrees  at  the  dictation  of  passion, 
prejudice,  party.  And  not  only  was  there  an  entire  disap- 
pearance of  security  from  the  social  relations  of  men,  there 
was  none  v/hatever  on  the  highways,  which  were  covered 
with  thieves  and  robbers;  material  anarchy  as  well  as  moral 
anarchy  manifested  itself  in  every  direction,  and  the  House 
of  Commons  and  the  Republican  Council  were  wholly 
incapable  of  repressing  either  the  one  or  the  other. 

The  three  great  parties  of  the  revolution  had  thus  been 
called  successively  to  conduct  it,  to  govern  the  country 
according  to  their  knowledge  and  will,  and  they  had  not 
been  able  to  do  it;  they  had  all  three  of  them  completely 
failed;  they  could  do  nothing  more.  **  It  was  then,^^  says 
Bossuet,  *'  that  a  man  was  found  who  left  nothing  to  for- 
tune which  he  could  take  from  it  by  council  or  foresight;^^ 
an  expression  full  of  error,  and  controverted  by  all  history. 
Never  did  man  leave  more  to  fortune  than  Cromwell; 
never  has  man  hazarded  more,  gone  on  with  more  temerity, 
without  design  or  aim,  but  determined  to  go  as  far  as  fate 
should  carry  him.  An  unlimited  ambition,  an  admirable 
faculty  of  extracting  from  every  day  and  circumstance 
some  new  means  of  progress,  the  art  of  turning  chance  to 
profit,  without  pretending  to  rule  it,  all  these  were  Crom- 
welFs.  It  was  with  Cromwell  as  perhaps  it  has  been  with 
no  other  man  in  his  circumstances;  he  sufficed  for  all  the 
most  various  phases  of  the  revolution;  he  was  a  man  for  its 
first   and    latest   epochs;    first  of   all,  he  was    the  leader 


290  BISTORT  OF 

of  insurrection,  the  abettor  of  anarchy,  the  most  fiery 
of  the  English  revolutionists;  afterward  the  man  for 
the  anti-revolutionary  reaction,  for  the  re-establishment 
of  order,  and  for  social  organization;  thus  performing 
singly  all  the  parts  which,  in  the  course  of  revolu- 
tions, are  divided  among  the  greatest  actors.  One  can 
hardly  say  that  Cromwell  was  a  Mirabeau;  he  wantevi 
eloquence,  and  although  very  active,  did  not  make  any 
show  during  the  first  years  of  the  Long  Parliament. 
But  he  was  successively  a  Dan  ton  and  a  Buonaparte. 
He,  more  than  any  others,  had  contributed  to  the 
overthrow  of  power;  and  he  raised  it  up  again  because 
none  but  he  knew  how  to  assume  and  manage  it;  some  one 
must  govern;  all  had  failed  and  he  succeeded.  That  con- 
stituted his  title.  Once  master  of  the  government,  this 
man,  whose  ambition  had  shown  itself  so  bold  and  insati- 
able, who,  in  his  progress  had  always  driven  fortune  before 
him,  determined  never  to  stop,  now  displayed  a  good 
sense,  prudence  and  knowledge  of  the  possible,  which 
dominated  all  his  most  violent  passions.  He  had,  no 
doubt,  a  great  love  for  absolute  power  and  a  strong  desire 
to  place  the  crown  on  his  own  head  and  establish  it  in  his 
family.  He  renounced  this  last  design,  the  danger  of 
which  he  saw  in  time;  and  as  to  the  absolute  power, 
although,  in  fact,  he  exercised  it,  he  always  knew  that 
the  tendency  of  his  a^e  was  against  it;  that  the  revolution 
in  which  he  had  co-operated  and  which  he  had  followed 
through  all  its  phases,  had  been  directed  against  despotism, 
and  that  the  imperishable  desire  of  England  was  to  be 
governed  by  a  parliament  and  in  parliamentary  forms. 
Therefore  he  himself,  a  despot  by  inclination  and  in  fact, 
undertook  to  have  a  parliament  and  to  govern  in  a  parlia- 
mentary manner.  He  addressed  himself  unceasingly  to  all 
parties;  he  endeavored  to  form  a  parliament  of  religious 
enthusiasts,  of  republicans,  of  Presbyterians,  of  officers  of 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  291 

the  army.  He  attempted  all  means  to  constitute  a  parlia- 
ment which  could  and  would  co-operate  with  him.  He 
tried  in  vain:  all  parties,  once  seated  in  Westminster, 
wished  to  snatch  from  him  the  power  which  he  exercised, 
and  rule  in  theii*  turn.  I  do  not  say  that  his  own  interest 
and  personal  passion  were  not  first  in  his  thoughts;  but  it 
is  not  therefore  the  less  certain  that,  if  he  had  abandoned 
power,  he  would  have  been  obliged  to  take  it  up  again  the 
next  day.  Neither  Puritans  nor  royalists,  republicans  nor 
officers,  none,  besides  Cromwell,  was  in  condition  to 
govern  with  any  degree  of  order  or  justice.  The  proof 
had  been  shown.  It  was  impossible  to  allow  the  Parliament, 
that  is  to  say,  the  parties  sitting  in  Parliament,  to  take  the 
empire  which  they  could  not  keep.  Such,  then,  was  the 
situation  of  Cromwell;  he  governed  according  to  a  system 
which  he  knew  very  well  was  not  that  of  the  country;  he 
exercised  a  power  acknowledged  as  necessary,  but  accepted 
by  no  one.  No  party  regarded  his  dominion  as  a  definitive 
government.  The  royalists,  the  Presbyterians,  the  republi- 
cans, the  army  itself,  the  party  which  seemed  most  devoted 
to  Cromwell,  all  were  convinced  that  he  was  but  a  fransi- 
tory  master.  At  bottom  he  never  reigned  over  men^s 
minds;  he  was  never  anything  but  a  make-shift,  a  necessity 
of  the  moment.  The  protector,  the  absolute  master  of 
England,  was  all  his  life  obliged  to  employ  force  in  order 
to  protect  his  power;  no  party  could  govern  like  him,  but 
no  party  wished  him  for  governor:  he  was  constantly 
attacked  by  all  parties  at  once. 

At  his  death  the  republicans  alone  were  in  a  condition 
to  seize  upon  power;  they  did  so,  and  succeeded  no  better 
then  they  had  done  before.  This  was  not  for  want  of 
confidence,  at  least  as  regards  the  fanatics  of  the  party. 
A  pamphlet  of  Milton,  published  at  this  period  and  full  of 
talent  and  enthusiasm,  is  entitled,  "  A  ready  and  easy  way 
to  establish  a  free  commonwealth.*'    You  see  what  was  the 


292  HISTORY  OF 

blindness  of  these  men.  They  very  soon  fell  again  into 
that  impossibility  of  governing  which  they  had  already 
experienced.  Monk  undertook  the  conduct  of  the  event 
which  all  England  looked  for.  The  restoration  was 
accomplished. 

The  restoration  of  the  Stuarts  in  England  was  a  deeply 
national  event.  It  presented  itself  with  the  advantages  at 
once  of  an  ancient  government,  of  a  government  which 
rests  upon  its  traditions,  upon  the  recollections  of  the 
country  and  with  the  advantages  of  a  new  government,  of 
which  no  recent  trial  has  been  made  and  of  which  the 
faults  and  weight  have  not  been  experienced.  The  ancient 
monarchy  was  the  only  species  of  government  which  for 
the  last  twenty  years  had  not  been  despised  for  its  inca- 
pacity and  ill-sucess  in  the  administration  of  the  country. 
These  two  causes  rendered  the  restoration  popular ;  it  had 
nothing  to  oppose  it  but  the  remnants  of  violent  parties, 
and  the  public  rallied  around  it  heartily.  It  was,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  country,  the  only  means  of  legal  govern- 
ment; that  is  to  say,  of  that  which  the  country  most 
ardently  desired.  This  was  also  what  the  restoration 
promised,  and  it  was  careful  to  present  itself  under  the 
aspect  of  a  legal  government. 

The  first  royalist  party  which,  at  the  return  of  Charles 
II,  undertook  the  management  of  affairs  was,  in  fact,  the 
legal  party,  represented  by  its  most  able  chief,  the  chancel- 
lor Clarendon.  You  are  aware  that,  from  1660  to  1667, 
Clarendon  was  prime  minister,  and  the  truly  predominat- 
ing influence  in  England.  Clarendon  and  his  friends  re- 
appeared with  their  ancient  system,  the  absolute  sovereignty 
of  the  king,  kept  within  legal  limits,  and  restrained,  in 
matters  of  taxation,  by  Parliament,  and  in  matters  of  pri- 
vate rights  and  individual  liberties,  by  the  tribunals;  but 
possessing,  as  regards  government,  properly  so  called,  an 
almost  complete  independence,  the  most  decisive  prepon- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  293 

derance,  to  the  exclusion,  or  even  against  the  wishes  of  the 
majority  in  Parliament,  especially  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. As  to  the  rest,  they  had  a  due  respect  for  legal 
order,  a  sufficient  solicitude  for  the  interests  of  the  coun- 
try, a  noble  sentiment  of  its  dignity,  and  a  grave  and  hon- 
orable moral  tone:  such  was  the  character  of  Clarendon^a 
administration  of  seven  years. 

But  the  fundamental  ideas  upon  which  this  administra- 
tion rested,  the  absolute  sovereignty  of  the  king,  and  the 
government,  placed  beyond  the  influence  of  the  preponder- 
ating opinion  of  Parliament,  these  ideas,  I  say,  were  ob- 
solete, impotent.  In  spite  of  the  reaction  of  the  first 
moments  of  the  restoration,  twenty  years  of  parliamentary 
rule,  in  opposition  to  royalty,  had  irremediably  ruined 
them.  A  new  element  soon  burst  forth  in  the  center  of 
the  royalist  party:  free-thinkers,  rakes  and  libertines,  who 
participated  in  the  ideas  of  the  time,  conceived  that  power 
was  vested  in  the  Commons,  and,  caring  very  little  for 
legal  order  or  the  absolute  sovereignty  of  the  king,  trouble^ 
themselves  only  for  their  own  success,  and  sought  it  when- 
ever they  caught  a  glimpse  of  any  means  of  influence  or 
power.  These  formed  a  party  which  became  allied  with 
the  national  discontented  party,  and  Clarendon  was  over- 
iiirown. 

Thus  arose  a  new  system  of  government,  namely,  that  of 
that  portion  of  the  royalist  party  which  I  have  now  de- 
scribed: profligates  and  libertines  formed  the  ministry, 
which  is  called  the  ministry  of  the  Cabal,  and  many  other 
administrations  which  succeeded  it.  This  was  their  char- 
acter: no  care  for  principles,  laws  or  rights;  as  little  for 
justice  and  for  truth;  they  sought  upon  each  occasion  to 
discover  the  means  of  succeeding:  if  success  depended  upon 
the  influence  of  the  Commons,  they  chimed  in  with  their 
opinions;  if  it  seemed  expedient  to  flout  the  House  of 
Commons,   the^^  did  so,  and  begged    its  pardon   on  the 


294  HISTORY  OF 

morrow.  Corruption  was  tried  one  day,  flattery  ot  tTi% 
national  spirit,  another;  there  was  no  regard  paid  to  thfr 
general  interests  of  the  country,  to  its  dignity,  or  to  its 
honor;  in  a  word,  their  government  was  profoundly  selfish 
and  immoral,  a  stranger  to  all  public  doctrine  or  views: 
but  at  bottom,  and  in  the  practical  administration  of  aifairs, 
very  intelligent  and  liberal.  Such  was  the  character  of  the 
Cabal,  of  the  ministry  of  the  Earl  of  Danby,  and  of  the 
entire  English  government,  from  1667  to  1678.  Notwith- 
standing its  immorality,  notwithstanding  its  contempt  of 
the  principles  and  the  true  interests  of  the  country,  this 
government  was  less  odious  and  less  unpopular  than  the 
ministry  of  Clarendon  had  been:  and  why?  because  it  was 
much  bettor  adapted  to  the  times,  and  because  it  better 
understood  the  sentiments  of  the  people,  even  in  mocking 
them.  It  was  not  antiquated  and  foreign  to  them,  like 
that  of  Clarendon;  and  though  it  did  the  country  much 
more  harm,  the  country  found  it  more  agreeable.  Never- 
theless, there  came  a  moment  when  corruption,  servility 
and  contempt  of  rights  and  public  honor  were  pushed  to  such 
a  point  that  the  people  could  no  longer  remain  resigned. 
There  was  a  general  rising  against  the  government  of  the 
profligates.  A  national  and  patriotic  party  had  formed  itself 
in  the  bosom  of  the  House  of  Commons.  The  king  decided 
upon  calling  its  chiefs  to  the  council.  Then  came  to 
the  direction  of  affairs  Lord  Essex,  the  son  of  him  who 
had  commanded  the  first  parliamentary  armies  during 
the  civil  war.  Lord  Eussell,  and  a  man  who,  without 
having  any  of  their  virtues,  was  far  superior  to  them  in 
political  ability.  Lord  Shaftesbury.  Brought  thus  to  the 
management  of  affairs,  the  national  party  showed  itself  in- 
competent; it  knew  not  how  to  possess  itself  of  the  moral 
force  of  the  country;  it  knew  not  how  to  treat  the  inter- 
ests either  of  the  king,  the  court  or  of  any  of  those  with 
whom  it  had  to  do.     It  gave  to  no  one,  neither  to  the 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  295 

people  nor  to  the  king,  any  great  notion  of  its  ability  and 
energy.  After  remaining  a  short  time  in  power,  it  failed. 
The  virtue  of  its  chiefs,  their  generous  courage,  the  noble- 
ness of  their  deaths,  have  exalted  them  in  history,  and  have 
justly  placed  them  in  the  highest  rank;  but  their  political 
capacity  did  not  answer  to  their  virtue,  and  they  knew  i.ot 
how  to  wield  the  power  which  could  not  corrupt  them,  noi 
to  secure  the  triumph  of  the  cause  for  the  sake  of  which 
they  knew  how  to  die. 

This  attempt  having  failed,  you  perceive  the  condition 
of  the  English  restoration;  it  had,  after  a  manner,  and 
like  the  revolution,  tried  all  parties  and  all  ministries,  the 
legal  ministry,  the  corrupted  ministry,  and  the  nationa. 
ministry,  but  none  had  succeeded.  The  country  and  the 
court  found  themselves  in  much  the  same  situation  as  that 
of  England  in  1653,  at  the  end  of  the  revolutionary  tem- 
pest. Recourse  was  had  to  the  same  expedient;  what 
Cromwell  had  done  for  the  good  of  the  revolution,  Charles 
II  did  for  the  good  of  his  crown:  he  entered  the  career  of 
absolute  power. 

James  II  succeeded  his  brother.  Then  a  second  question 
was  added  to  that  of  absolute  power;  namely,  the  question 
of  religion.  James  II  desired  to  bring  about  the  triumph 
of  popery  as  well  as  that  of  despotism.  Here,  then,  as  at 
the  beginning  of  the  revolution,  we  have  a  religious  and  a 
political  warfare,  both  directed  against  the  government. 
It  has  often  been  asked,  what  would  have  happened  had 
William  III  never  existed,  or  had  he  not  come  with  his 
Hollanders  to  put  an  end  to  the  quarrel  which  had  arisen 
between  James  II  and  the  English  nation?  I  firmly  beliem 
that  the  same  event  would  have  been  accomplished.  All 
England,  except  a  very  small  party,  had  rallied,  at  this 
epoch,  against  James,  and,  under  one  form  or  another,  it 
would  have  accomplished  the  revolution  of  1688.  But  this 
crisis  was  produced  by  other  and  higher  causes  than  the 


296  HISTORY  OF 

internal  state  of  England.  It  was  European  as  well  aa 
English.  It  is  here  that  the  English  revolution  connects 
itself  by  facts  themselves,  and  independently  of  the  influ- 
ence which  its  example  may  have  had  with  the  general 
course  of  European  civilization. 

While  this  struggle,  which  I  have  sketched  in  outline, 
this  struggle  of  absolute  power  against  civil  and  religious 
liberty,  was  taking  place  in  England,  a  struggle  of  the 
same  kind  was  going  on  upon  the  continent,  very  different, 
indeed,  as  regards  the  actors,  forms  and  theater,  but  at 
bottom  the  same,  and  originated  by  the  same  cause.  The 
pure  monarchy  of  Louis  XIV  endeavored  to  become  an 
universal  monarchy;  at  least  it  gave  reason  for  the  fear 
that  such  was  the  case;  and  in  fact,  Europe  did  fear  that 
it  was.  A  league  was  made  in  Europe,  between  various 
political  parties,  in  order  to  resist  this  attempt,  and  the 
chief  of  this  league  was  the  chief  of  the  party  in  favor  of 
civil  and  religious  liberty  upon  the  continent,  William, 
Prince  of  Orange.  The  Protestant  republic  of  Holland, 
with  William  at  its  head,  undertook  to  resist  the  pure 
monarchy  represented  and  conducted  by  Louis  XIV.  It; 
was  not  civil  and  religious  liberty  in  the  interior  of  the 
states,  but  their  external  independence  which  was  appar- 
ently the  question.  Louis  XIV  and  his  adversaries  did 
not  imagine  that,  in  fact,  they  were  contesting  between 
them  the  question  which  was  being  contested  in  England. 
This  struggle  went  on,  not  between  parties,  but  between 
states;  it  proceeded  by  war  and  diplomacy,  not  by  political 
movements  and  by  revolutions.  But,  at  bottom,  one  and 
the  same  question  was  at  issue. 

When,  therefore,  James  II  resumed  in  England  the  con- 
test between  absolute  power  and  liberty,  this  contest  occurred 
just  in  the  midst  of  the  general  struggle  which  was  going 
on  in  Europe  between  Louis  XIV  and  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
the  representatives,  severally,  of  the  two  great  systems  at 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  297 

war  upon  the  banks  of  the  Scheldt,  as  well  as  on  those  of 
the  Thames.  The  league  was  so  powerful  against  Louis 
XIV  that,  openly,  or  in  a  hidden  but  very  real  manner, 
sovereigns  were  seen  to  e»ter  it,  who  were  assuredly  very 
far  from  being  interested  in  favor  of  civil  and  religious 
liberty.  The  emperor  of  Germany  and  pope  Innocent  XI 
supported  William  III  against  Louis  XIV.  William  passed 
into  England,  less  in  order  to  serve  the  internal  interests 
of  the  country  than  to  draw  it  completely  into  the  struggle 
against  Louis  XIV.  He  took  this  new  kingdom  as  a  new 
power  of  which  he  was  in  want,  and  of  which  his  opponent 
had,  up  to  that  time,  made  use  against  them.  While 
Charles  II  and  James  II  reigned,  England  belonged  to 
Louis  XIV;  he  had  directed  its  external  relations,  and  had 
constantly  opposed  it  to  Holland.  England  was  now 
snatched  from  the  party  of  pure  and  universal  monarchy 
in  order  to  become  the  instrument  and  strongest  support 
of  the  party  of  religious  liberty.  This  is  the  European 
aspect  of  the  revolution  of  1688;  it  was  thus  that  it  occu- 
pied a  place  in  the  total  result  of  the  events  of  Europe, 
independently  of  the  part  which  it  played  by  means  of  its 
example,  and  the  influence  which  it  exercised  upon  minds 
in  the  following  century. 

Thus  you  see  that,  as  I  told  you  in  the  beginning,  the 
true  meaning  and  essential  character  of  this  revolution  was 
the  attempt  to  abolish  absolute  power  in  temporal  as  well 
as  spiritual  things.  This  act  discovers  itself  in  all  the» 
phases  of  the  revolution — in  its  first  period  up  to  the  res- 
toration, in  the  second  up  to  the  crisis  of  1688 — and 
whether  we  consider  it  in  its  internal  development  or  in 
its  relations  with  Europe  in  general. 

It  now  remains  for  us  to  study  the  same  great  event  upon 
the  continent,  the  struggle  of  pure  monarchy  and  free  in- 
quiry, or,  at  least,  its  causes  and  approaches.  This  will  be 
the  subject  of  our  next  lecture. 


298  EISTORT  OJf 


FOURTEENTH    LEOTUEB. 

Object  of  the  lecture — Difference  and  likeness  between  the  progress 
of  civilization  in  England  and  on  the  Continent — Preponderance 
of  France  in  Europe  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centu- 
ries— In  the  seventeenth  century  by  reason  of  the  French  gov- 
ernment— In  the  eighteenth  by  reason  of  the  country  itself — Of 
the  government  of  Louis  XIV — Of  his  wars — Of  his  diplomacy — 
Of  his  administration — Of  his  legislation — Causes  of  his  rapid 
decline — Of  France  in  the  eighteenth  century — Essential  charac- 
teristics of  the  philosophical  revolution — Conclusion  of  the 
course. 

In  my  last  lecture  I  endeavored  to  determine  the  true 
character  and  political  meaning  of  the  English  revolution. 
We  have  seen  that  it  was  the  first  shock  of  the  two  great 
facts  to  which  all  the  civilization  of  primitive  Europe  ron 
duced  itself  in  the  course  of  the  sixteenth  century,  namely, 
pure  monarchy  on  one  hand  and  free  inquiry  on  the  other; 
those  two  powers  came  to  strife  for  the  first  time  in  Eng- 
land. Attempts  have  been  made  to  infer  from  this  fact 
the  existence  of  a  radical  difference  between  the  social 
state  of  England  and  that  of  the  continent;  some  have 
pretended  that  no  comparison  was  possible  between  coun- 
tries of  destinies  so  different;  they  have  affirmed  that  the 
English  people  had  existed  in  a  kind  of  moral  isolation 
analogous  to  its  material  situation. 

It  is  true  that  there  had  been  an  important  difference 
between  English  civilization,  and  the  civilization  of  the 
continental  states — a  difference  which  we  are  bound  to  cal- 
culate. You  have  already,  in  the  course  of  my  lectures, 
been  enabled  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  it.    The  development  of 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  299 

the  different  principles  and  elements  of  society  occurred 
in  England  simultaneously,  and,  as  it  were,  abreast;  at 
least  far  more  so  than  upon  the  continent.  When  I 
attempted  to  determine  the  peculiar  physiognomy  of 
European  civilization  as  compared  with  the  ancient  and 
Asiatic  civilizations,  I  showed  you  the  first,  varied,  rich  and 
complex;  that  it  never  fell  under  the  dominion  of  an  exclu- 
sive principle;  that  therein  the  various  elements  of  the 
social  state  were  modified,  combined,  and  struggled  with 
each  other,  and  had  been  constantly  compelled  to  agree 
and  live  in  common.  This  fact,  the  general  characteristic 
of  European  civilization,  has  above  all  characterized  the 
English  civilization;  it  was  in  England  that  this  character 
*  developed  itself  with  the  most  continuity  and  obviousness; 
it  was  there  that  the  civil  and  religious  orders,  aristocracy, 
democracy,  royalty,  local  and  central  institutions,  moral 
and  political  developments,  progressed  and  increased 
together,  pell-mell,  so  to  speak,  and  if  not  with  an  equal 
rapidity,  at  least  always  within  a  short  distance  of  each 
other.  Under  the  reign  of  the  Tiidors,  for  instance,  in 
the  midst  of  the  most  brilliant  progress  of  pure  monarchy, 
we  see  the  democratical  principle,  the  popular  power,  aris- 
ing and  strengthening  itself  at  the  same  time.  The  rev- 
olution of  the  seventeenth  century  burst  forth;  it  was  at 
the  same  time  religious  and  political.  The  feudal  aristoc- 
racy appeared  here  in  a  very  weakened  condition,  and  with 
all  the  symptoms  of  decline:  nevertheless,  it  was  ever  in  a 
position  to  preserve  a  place  and  play  an  important  part 
therein,  and  to  take  its  share  in  the  results.  It  is  the  same 
with  the  entire  course  of  English  history:  never  has  any 
ancient  element  completely  perished;  never  has  any  new 
element  wholly  triumphed,  or  any  special  principle  attained 
to  an  exclusive  preponderance.  There  has  always  been  a 
simultaneous  development  of  different  forces,  a  compro 
mise  between  their  pretensions  and  their  interests. 


^00  BISTORT  Oh 

Upon  the  continent  the  progress  of  civilization  has  been 
much  less  complex  and  complete.  The  various  elements  of 
society — the  religious  and  civil  orders — monarcy,  aristoc- 
racy and  democracy,  have  developed  themselves,  not 
together  and  abreast,  but  in  succession.  Each  principle, 
each  system  has  had,  after  a  certain  manner,  its  turn. 
Such  a  century  belongs,  I  will  not  say  exclusively,  which 
would  be  saying  too  much,  but  with  a  very  marked  pre- 
ponderance, to  feudal  aristocracy,  for  example;  another 
belongs  to  the  monarchical  principle;  a  third  to  the  dem- 
ocratical  system. 

Compare  the  French  with  the  English  middle  ages,  the 
eleventh,  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  of  our  history 
u  with  the  corresponding  centuries  beyond  the  channel;  you' 
'  will  find  that  at  this  period  in  France  feudalism  was 
almost  absolutely  sovereign,  while  royalty  and  the  dem- 
ocratical  principle  were  next  to  nullities.  Look  to  Eng- 
land: it  is,  indeed,  the  feudal  aristocracy  which  predom- 
inates; but  royalty  and  democracy  were  nevertheless  pow- 
erful and  important. 

Royalty  triumphed  in  England  under  Elizabeth,  as  in 
France  under  Louis  XIV;  but  how  many  precautions  was 
it  obliged  to  take;  to  how  many  restrictions — now  from  the 
aristocracy,  now  from  the  democracy,  did  it  submit!  In 
England,  also,  each  system  and  each  principle  has  had  its 
day  of  power  and  success,  but  never  so  completely,  sc 
exclusively  as  upon  the  continent;  the  conqueror  has 
always  been  compelled  to  tolerate  the  presence  of  his  rivals 
and  to  allow  each  his  share. 

With  the  differences  in  the  progress  of  the  two  civiliza- 
tions are  connected  advantages  and  disadvantages,  which 
manifest  themselves,  in  fact,  in  the  history  of  the  two 
countries.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  for  instance,  but  that 
this  simultaneous  development  of  the  different  social  ele- 
ments greatly  contributed  to  carry  England,  more  rapidly 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  301 

than  any  other  of  the  continental  states,  to  the  final  aim  of 
all  society — namely,  the  establishment  of  a  government  at 
once  regular  and  free.  It  is  precisely  the  nature  of  a  gov- 
ernment to  concern  itself  for  all  interests  and  all  powers, 
to  reconcile  them,  and  to  induce  them  to  live  and  prosper 
in  common;  now,  such,  beforehand,  by  the  concurrence  of 
a  multitude  of  causes,  was  the  disposition  and  relation  of 
the  different  elements  of  English  society:  a  general  and 
somewhat  regular  government  had  therefore  less  difficulty 
in  becoming  constituted  there.  So,  the  essence  of  liberty 
is  the  manifestation  and  simultaneous  action  of  all  inter- 
ests, rights,  powers  and  social  elements.  England  was 
therefore  much  nearer  to  its  possessions  than  the  majority 
of  other  states.  For  the  same  reasons,  national  good  sense, 
the  comprehension  of  public  affairs,  necessarily  formed 
themselves  there  more  rapidly  than  elsewhere;  political 
Bood  sense  consists  in  knowing  how  to  estimate  all  facts, 
to  appreciate  them,  and  render  to  each  its  share  of  consid- 
eration; this,  in  England,  was  a  necessity  of  the  social 
state,  a  natural  result  of  the  course  of  civilization. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  the  continental  states,  each  system, 
each  principle  having  had  its  turn,  having  predominated 
after  a  more  complete  and  more  exclusive  manner,  its  de- 
velopment was  wrought  upon  a  larger  scale,  and  with  more 
grandeur  and  brilliancy.  Koyalty  and  feudal  aristocracy, 
for  instance,  came  upon  the  continental  stage  with  far 
greater  boldness,  extension  and  freedom.  Our  political 
experiments,  so  to  speak,  have  been  broader  and  more 
finished:  the  result  of  this  has  been  that  political  ideas  (I 
speak  of  general  ideas,  and  not  of  good  sense  applied  to  the 
conduct  of  affairs)  and  political  doctrines  have'  risen  higher, 
and  displayed  themselves  with  much  more  rational  vigor. 
Each  system  having,  in  some  measure,  presented  itself 
alone,  and  having  remained  a  long  time  upon  the  stage, 
men  have  been  enabled  to  consider  it  in  its  entirety,  to 


303  EI8T0RT  OV* 

mount  up  to  its  first  principles,  to  follow  it  out  into  ita 
last  consequences,  and  fully  to  unfold  its  theory.  Whoever 
attentively  observes  the  English  character  must  be  struck 
with  a  twofold  fact — on  the  one  hand,  with  the  soundness 
of  its  good  sense  and  its  practical  ability;  on  the  oth4:>r5 
with  its  lack  of  general  ideas,  and  its  pride  as  to  theoretical 
questions.  Whether  we  open  a  work  upon  English  history, 
upon  jurisprudence,  or  any  other  subject,  it  is  rarely  that 
we  find  the  grand  reason  of  things,  the  fundamental 
reason.  In  all  things,  and  especially  in  the  political 
sciences,  pure  doctrine,  philosophy  and  science,  properly 
so  called,  have  prospered  much  better  on  the  continent  than 
in  England  ;  their  flights  have,  at  least,  been  far  more 
powerful  and  bold ;  and  we  cannot  doubt  but  that  the 
different  developments  of  civilization  in  the  two  countries 
have  greatly  contributed  to  this  result. 

For  the  rest  whatever  we  may  think  of  the  advantages  ot 
disadvantages  which  this  difference  has  entailed,  it  is  a  real 
and  incontestable  fact,  the  fact  which  most  deeply  dis- 
tinguishes England  from  the  continent.  But  it  does  not 
follow,  because  the  different  principles  and  social  elements 
have  been  there  developed  more  simultaneously,  here  more 
successively,  that,  at  bottom,  the  path  and  the  goal  have 
not  been  one  and  the  same.  Considered  in  their  entirety, 
the  continent  and  England  have  traversed  the  same  grand 
phases  of  civilization  ;  events  have,  in  either,  followed  tho 
teame  course,  and  the  same  causes  have  led  to  the  same 
effects.  You  have  been  enabled  to  convince  yourselves  ot 
'this  fact  from  the  picture  which  I  have  placed  before  you 
of  civilization  up  to  the  sixteenth  century,  and  you  will 
equally  recognize  it  in  studying  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries.  The  development  of  free  inquiry, 
and  that  of  pure  monarchy,  almost  simultaneous  in  England, 
accomplished  themselves  upon  the  continent  at  long  in- 
tervals; but  they  did  not  accomplish  themselves,  and  tha 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  3C3 

two  powers,  after  having  successively  preponderated  with 
splendor,  came  equally,  at  last,  to  blows.  The  general 
path  of  societies,  considering  all  things,  has  thus  been  the 
same,  and  though  the  points  of  difference  are  real,  those  of 
resemblance  are  more  deeply  seated.  A  rapid  sketch  of 
modern  times  will  leave  you  in  no  doubt  upon  this  subject. 

Glancing  over  the  history  of  Europe  in  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  it  is  impossible  not  to  perceive 
that  France  has  advanced  at  the  head  of  European  civiliza- 
tion. At  the  beginning  of  this  work  I  have  already 
insisted  upon  this  fact,  and  I  have  endeavored  to  point 
out  its  cause.  We  shall  now  find  it  more  striking  than 
ever. 

The  principle  of  pure  monarchy,  of  absolute  royalty,  pre- 
dominated in  Spain  under  Charles  V  and  Phillip  II,  be- 
fore developing  itself  in  France  under  Louis  XIV.  In  the 
same  manner  the  principle  of  free  inquiry  had  reigned  in 
England  in  the  seventeenth  century,  before  developing 
itself  in  France  in  the  eighteenth.  Nevertheless,  pure 
monarchy  and  free  inquiry  came  not  from  Spain  and  Eng- 
land to  take  possession  of  the  world.  The  two  principles, 
the  two  systems  remained,  in  a  manner,  confined  to  the 
countries  in  which  they  had  arisen.  It  was  necessary  that 
they  should  pass  through  France  in  order  that  they  might 
extend  their  conquests;  it  was  necessary  that  pure  mon- 
archy and  free  inquiry  should  become  French  in  order 
to  become  European.  This  communicative  character 
of  French  civilization,  this  social  genius  of  France, 
which  has  displayed  itself  at  all  periods,  was  thus 
more  than  ever  manifest  at  the  period  with  which  we 
now  occupy  ourselves.  I  will  not  further  insist  upon  this 
fact;  it  has  been  developed  to  you  with  as  much  reason  of 
brilliancy  in  other  lectures  wherein  you  have  been  called 
upon  to  observe  the  influence  of  French  literature  and 
philosophy  in  the  eighteeuth  century.     You  have  seen  that 


304  EI8T0RT  OF 

philosophic  Prance  possessed  more  authority  over  Europe, 
in  regard  to  liberty,  then  even  free  England.  You  have 
seen  that  French  civilization  showed  itself  far  more  active 
and  contagious  than  that  of  any  other  country.  I  need 
not,  therefore,  pause  upon  the  details  of  this  fact,  which  I 
mention  only  in  order  to  rest  upon  it  any  right  to  con* 
fine  my  picture  of  modern  European  civilization  to  France 
alone.  Between  the  civilization  of  France  and  that  of  the 
other  states  of  Europe  at  this  period,  there  have,  no  doubt, 
been  differences,  which  it  would  have  been  necessary  to 
bear  in  mind,  if  my  present  purpose  had  been  a  full  and 
faithful  exposition  of  the  history  of  those  civilizations;  but 
I  must  go  on  so  rapidly  that  I  am  compelled  to  omit  entire 
nations  and  ages,  so  to  speak.  I  choose  rather  to  concen- 
trate your  attention  for  a  moment  upon  the  course  of 
French  civilization,  an  image,  though  imperfect,  of  the 
general  course  of  things  in  Europe. 

The  influence  of  France  in  Europe  during  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  presents  itself  under  very 
different  aspects.  In  the  -  former  it  was  French  govern- 
ment that  acted  upon  Europe  and  advanced  at  the  head  of 
general  civilization.  In  the  latter  it  was  no  longer  to  the 
government,  but  France  herself,  that  the  predonderance 
belonged.  In  the  first  case,  it  was  Louis  XIV  and  his 
court,  afterward  France  and  her  opinion,  that  governed 
minds  and  attracted  attention.  In  the  seventeenth  century 
Ihere  were  peoples  who,  as  peoples,  appeared  more  promi 
nently  upon  the  scene  and  took  a  greater  part  in  eventr^ 
than  the  French  people.  Thus,  during  the  thirty  years 
war,  the  German  nation,  in  the  English  revolution,  the 
English  people  played,  in  their  own  destinies,  a  much 
greater  part  than  was  played  at  this  period  by  the  French 
in  theirs.  So,  also,  in  the  eighteenth  century  there 
were  governments  stronger,  of  greater  consideration  and 
more  to  be  dreaded,  than  the  French   government,     No 


GIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  305 

doubt  Frederick  II,  Catherine  II  and  Maria  Theresa,  had 
more  influence  and  weight  in  Europe  than  Louis  XV; 
nevertheless,  at  both  periods,  it  was  France  that  was  at  the 
head  of  European  civilization,  placed  there  first,  by  its 
government,  afterward  by  itself;  now  by  the  political 
action  of  its  masters,  now  by  its  peculiar  intellectual 
development. 

In  order  to  fully  understand  the  predominant  influence 
in  the  course  of  civilization  in  France,  and  therefore  in 
Europe,  we  must  study,  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
French  government,  in  the  eighteenth,  French  society. 
We  must  change  the  plan  and  the  drama  according  as 
time  alters  the  stage  and  the  actors. 

When  we  occupy  ourselves  with  the  government  of 
Louis  XIV,  when  we  endeavor  to  appreciate  the  causes  of 
his  power  and  influence  in  Europe,  we  scarcely  think  of 
anything  but  his  renown,  his  conquests,  his  magnificence 
and  the  literary  glory  of  his  time.  It  is  to  external  causes 
that  we  apply  ourselves  and  attribute  the  European  pre- 
ponderance of  the  French  government.  But  I  conceive 
that  this  preponderance  had  deeper  and  more  serious 
foundations.  We  must  not  believe  that  it  was  simply  by 
means  of  victories, /e^^5,  or  even  master-works  of  genius, 
that  Louis  XIV  and  his  government,  at  this  epoch,  played 
the  part  which  it  is  impossible  to  deny  them. 

Many  of  you  may  remember,  and  all  of  you  have  heard 
speak  of  the  effect  which  the  consular  government  produced 
in  France  twenty-nine  years  ago,  and  of  the  condition  in 
which  it  found  our  country.  Without  was  impending 
foreign  invasion,  and  continual  disasters  were  occurring  in 
our  armies;  within  was  an  almost  complete  dissolution  of 
power  and  of  the  people;  there  were  no  revenues,  no  public 
order;  in  a  word,  society  was  prostrate,  humiliated  and 
disorganized:  such  was  France  on  the  advent  of  the  con- 
sulate government.     Who  does  not  recall  the  jDrodigioua 


306  HISTORY  OF 

and  felicitous  activity  of  this  government,  that  activity 
which,  in  a  little  time,  secured  the  independence  of  the 
land,  revived  national  honor,  reorganized  the  administra- 
tion, remodeled  the  legislation  and,  after  a  manner, 
regenerated  society  under  the  hand  of  power. 

Well,  the  government  of  Louis  XIV  when  it  com- 
menced, did  something  analogous  to  this  for  France;  with 
great  differences  of  times,  proceedings  and  forms,  it  pur- 
sued and  attained  nearly  the  same  results. 

Recall  to  your  memory  the  state  into  which  France  was 
fallen  after  the  government  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  and  dur- 
ing the  minority  of  Louis  XIV:  the  Spanish  armies  always 
on  the  frontiers,  sometimes  in  the  interior;  continual 
danger  of  an  invasion;  internal  dissensions  urged  to  ex- 
tremity, civil  war,  the  government  weak  and  discredited  at 
home  and  abroad.  Society  was  perhaps  in  a  less  violent, 
but  still  sufficiently  analogous  state  to  ours,  prior  to  the 
eighteenth  Brumaire.  It  was  from  this  state  that  the 
government  of  Louis  XIV,  extricated  France.  His  first 
victories  had  the  effect  of  the  victory  of  Marengo:  they 
secured  the  country,  and  retrieved  the  national  honor.  I 
am  about  to  consider  this  government  under  its  principal 
aspects — in  its  wars,  in  its  external  relations,  in  its  admin- 
istration, and  in  its  legislation;  and  you  will  see,  I  imagine, 
that  the  comparison  of  which  I  speak,  and  to  which  I  at- 
tach no  puerile  importance  (for  I  think  very  little  of  the 
value  of  historical  parallels),  you  will  see,  I  say,  that  this 
comparison  has  a  real  foundation,  and  that  I  have  a  right 
to  employ  it. 

First  of  all  let  us  speak  of  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  The 
wars  of  Europe  have  originated,  as  you  know,  and  as  I 
have  often  taken  occasion  to  remind  you,  in  great  popular 
movements.  Urged  by  necessity,  caprice,  or  any  other 
cause,  entire  populations,  sometimes  numerous,  sometimes 
in  simple  bands,  have  transported  themselves  from  on^ 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  307 

territory  to  another.  This  was  the  general  character  of 
European  wars  until  after  the  crusades,  at  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  centurv. 

At  that  time  began  a  species  of  wars  scarcely  less  differ- 
ent from  modern  wars  than  the  above.  These  were  the 
distant  wars,  undertaken  no  longer  by  the  people,  but  by 
governments,  which  went  at  the  head  of  their  armies  to 
seek  states  and  adventures  afar  off.  They  quitted  their 
countries,  abandoned  their  own  territories,  and  plunged, 
some  into  Germany,  others  into  Italy,  and  others  into 
Africa,  with  no  other  motives  than  personal  caprice.  Al- 
most all  the  wars  of  the  fifteenth  and  even  of  a  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century  were  of  this  description.  What  interest 
. — I  speak  not  of  a  legitimate  interest — but  what  possible 
motive  had  France  that  Charles  VIII  should  possess  the 
kingdom  of  Naples?  This  evidently  was  a  war  dictated  by 
no  political  consideration:  the  king  conceived  that  he  had 
a  personal  right  to  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  and  with  a 
personal  aim  and  to  satisfy  his  personal  desire,  he  under- 
took the  conquest  of  a  distant  country,  which  was  in  no 
way  adapted  for  annexation  to  his  kingdom;  which,  on  the 
contrary,  did  nothing  but  compromise  his  power  externally, 
and  internally  his  repose.  It  was  the  same  with  the  ex- 
pedition of  Charles  the  Fifth  to  Africa.  The  latest  war  of 
this  kind  was  the  expedition  of  Charles  XII  against 
Russia.  The  wars  of  Louis  XIV  had  no  such  character; 
they  were  the  wars  of  a  regular  government,  fixed  in  the 
center  of  its  states,  and  laboring  to  make  conquests  around 
it,  to  extend  or  consolidate  its  territory;  in  a  word,  they' 
were  political  wars. 

They  may  have  been  just  or  unjust;  they  may  have  cost 
France  too  u^arly;  there  are  a  thousand  reasons  which 
might  be  adduced  against  their  morality  and  their  excess; 
but  th«y  bear  a  character  incomparably  more  rational  than 
the  antecedent  wars:  they  were  no  longer  undertaken  for 


308  HISTORY  OF 

whim  or  adventure;  they  were  dictated  by  some  serious 
motive;  it  was  some  natural  limit  that  it  seemed  desirable 
to  attain;  some  population  speaking  the  same  language 
that  they  aimed  at  annexing;  some  point  of  defence  against 
a  neighboring  power,  which  it  was  thought  necessary  to 
acquire.  No  doubt  personal  ambition  had  a  share  in  thase 
wars;  but  examine  one  after  another  of  the  wars  of  Louis 
XIV,  particularly  those  of  the  first  part  of  his  reign,  and 
you  will  find  that  they  had  truly  political  motives;  and 
that  they  were  conceived  for  the  interest  of  France,  for  ob- 
taining power,  and  for  the  country^s  safety. 

The  results  are  proofs  of  the  fact.  France  of  the  present 
day  is  still,  in  many  respects,  what  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV 
have  made  it.  The  provinces  which  he  conquered,  Franche- 
Comte,  Flanders  and  Alsace,  remain  yet  incorporated  with 
France.  There  are  sensible  as  well  as  senseless  conquests: 
those  of  Louis  XIV  were  of  the  former  species;  his  enter- 
prises have  not  the  unreasonable  and  capricious  character 
which,  up  to  his  time,  was  so  general;  a  skillful,  if  not 
always  just  and  wise  policy,  presided  over  them. 

Leaving  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV,  and  passing  to  the 
consideration  of  his  relations  with  foreign  states,  qf  his 
diplomacy,  properly  so  called,  I  find  an  analogous  result. 
I  have  insisted  upon  the  occurrence  of  the  birth  of  diplo- 
macy in  Europe  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.  I  have 
endeavored  to  shov/  how  the  relations  of  governments  and 
states  between  themselves,  up  to  that  time  accidental, 
rare  and  transitory,  became  at  this  period  more  regular  and 
enduring,  how  they  tooK  a  character  of  great  public  inter 
est;  how,  in  a  word,  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth,  and  dur'  ig 
the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  diplomacy  came  tc 
play  an  immense  part  in  events.  K"everthoIess,  up  to  the 
seventeenth  century,  it  had  not  been,  truly  speaking,  sys- 
tematic; it  had  not  led  to  long  alliances,  or  to  great,  and 
above  all,  durable  combinations,  directed,  according  to  fixed 


CIVILIZA  TIO]^  m  EUROPE.  309 

principles,  toward  a  constant  aim,  with  that  spirit  of  con 
tinuity  which  is  the  true  character  of  established  govern- 
ments. During  the  course  of  the  religious  revolution,  tha 
external  relations  of  states  were  almost  completely  under 
the  power  of  the  religious  interest;  the  Protestant  and 
Catholic  leagues  divided  Europe.  It  was  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  after  the  treaty  of  Westphalia,  and  under 
the  influence  of  the  government  of  Louis  XIV,  that  diplo- 
macy changed  its  character.  It  then  escaped  from  the 
exclusive  influences  cf  the  religious  principle;  alliances  and 
political  combinatijns  w^ere  formed  upon  other  considera- 
tions. At  the  same  time  it  became  much  more  svstematic, 
regular,  and  constantly  directed  toward  a  certain  aim,  ac- 
cording to  permanent  principles.  The  regular  origin  of  this 
system  of  balance  in  Europe  belongs  to  this  period.  It 
was  under  the  government  of  Louis  XIV  that  the  system, 
together  with  all  the  considerations  attached  to  it,  truly 
^ook  possession  of  European  policy.  When  we  investigate 
what  was  the  general  idea  in  regard  to  this  subject,  what 
was  the  predominating  principle  of  the  policy  of  Louis 
XIV,  I  believe  that  the  following  is  what  we  discover: 

I  have  spoken  of  the  great  struggle  between  the  pure 
monarchy  of  Louis  XIV,  aspiring  to  become  universal 
monarchy,  and  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and  the  inde- 
pendence of  states,  under  the  direction  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange,  William  III.  You  have  seen  that  the  great  fact 
of  this  period  was  the  division  of  the  powers  under  these 
two  banners.  But  this  fact  was  not  then  estimated  as  W'e 
estimate  it  now;  it  was  hidden  and  unknown  even  to  those 
who  accomplished  it;  the  suppression  of  the  system  of  pure 
monarchy  and  the  consecration  of  civil  and  religious  liberty 
was,  at  bottom,  the  necessary  result  of  the  resistance  of 
Holland  and  its  allies  to  Louis  XIV,  but  the  question  was 
not  thus  openly  enunciated  between  absolute  power  and 
liberty.     It  has  been  often  said  that  the  propagation  of 


SIO  HISTORY  OF 

absolute  power  was  the  predominant  principle  of  the  diplo- 
macy of  Louis  XIV;  but  I  do  not  believe  it.  This  con- 
fiideration  played  no  very  great  part  in  his  policy,  until 
latterly,  in  his  old  age.  The  power  of  France,  its  prepon- 
derance in  Europe,  the  humbling  of  rival  powers,  in  a 
word,  the  political  interest  and  strength  of  the  state,  was 
the  aim  which  Louis  XIV  constantly  pursued,  whether  in 
fighting  against  Spain,  the  emperor  of  Germany  or  Eng- 
land; he  acted  far  less  with  a  view  to  the  propagation  of 
absolute  power  than  frpm  a  desire  for  the  power  and  ag- 
grandizement of  France  d-nd  of  its  government.  Among 
many  proofs,  I  will  adduce  one  which  emanates  from  Louis 
XIV  himself.  In  his  Memoirs,  under  the  year  1666,  if  I 
remember  right,  we  find  a  note  nearly  in  these  words: 

*'I  have  had,  this  morning,  a  conversation  with  Mr. 
Sidney,  an  English  gentleman,  who  maintained  to  me  the 
possibility  of  reanimating  the  republican  party  in  Eng- 
land. Mr.  Sidney  demanded  from  me,  for  that  purpose, 
400,000  livres.  I  told  him  that  I  could  give  no  more  than 
200,000.  ^  He  induced  me  to  summon  from  Switzerland 
another  English  gentleman  named  Ludlow,  and  to  converse 
with  him  of  the  same  design. ^^ 

And,  accordingly,  we  find  among  the  Memoirs  of  Ludlow, 
about  the  same  date,  a  paragraph  to  this  effect: 

*^  I  have  received  from  the  French  government  an  in- 
vitation to  go  to  Paris,  in  order  to  speak  of  the  affairs  of 
my  country;  but  lam  distrustful  of  that  government. ^^ 

And  Ludlow  remained  in  Switzerland. 

You  see  that  the  diminution  of  the  royal  power  in  Eng- 
land was,  at  this  time,  the  aim  of  Louis  XIV.  He  fo- 
mented internal  dissensions,  and  labored  to  resuscitate  the 
republican  party,  to  prevent  Charles  II  from  becoming  too 
powerful  in  his  country.  During  the  embassy  of  Barillon 
in  England  the  same  fact  constantly  reappears.  When- 
ever the  authority  of  Charles  seemed  to  obtain  the  ad  van- 


CIVILIZA  TlOJSr  IN  EUROPE.  311 

tage,  and  the  national  party  seemed  on  the  point  of  being 
crushed,  the  French  ambassador  directed  his  influence  to 
this  side,  gave  money  to  the  chiefs  of  the  opposition,  and 
fought,  in  a  word,  against  absolute  power,  when  that  became 
a  means  of  weakening  a  rival  power  to  France.  Whenever 
you  attentively  consider  the  conduct  of  external  relations 
under  Louis  XIV,  it  is  with  this  fact  that  you  will  be  the 
most  struck. 

You  will  also  be  struck  with  the  capacity  and  skill  of 
French  diplomacy  at  this  period.  The  names  of  M.M.  de 
Torcy,  d^Avaux,  de  Bonrepos,  are  known  to  all  well- 
informed  persons.  vVhen  we  compare  the  despatches,  the 
memoirs,  the  skill  and  conduct  of  these  counsellors  of 
Louis  XIV  with  those  of  Spanish,  Portuguese,  and  Ger- 
man negotiators,  we  must  be  struck  with  the  superiority  of 
the  French  ministers;  not  only  as  regards  their  earnest 
activity  and  their  application  to  affairs,  but  also  as  regards 
their  liberty  of  spirit  These  courtiers  of  an  absolute  king 
judged  of  external  events,  of  parties,  of  the  requirements 
of  liberty,  and  of  popular  revolutions,  much  better  even 
than  the  majority  of  the  English  ministers  themselves  at 
this  period.  There  was  no  diplomacy  in  Europe,  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  which  appears  equal  to  the  French, 
except  the  Dutch.  The  ministers  of  John  de  Witt  and  of 
William  of  Orange,  those  illustrious  chiefs  of  the  party  of 
civil  and  religious  liberty,  were  the  only  ministers  who 
seemed  in  condition  to  wrestle  with  the  servants  of  the 
great  and  absolute  king. 

You  see,  then,  that  whether  we  consider  the  wars  of 
Louis  XIV,  or  his  diplomatical  relations  we  arrive  at  the 
Bame  results.  We  can  easily  conceive  that  a  government, 
which  conducted  its  wars  and  negotiations  in  this  manner, 
should  have  assumed  a  high  standing  in  Europe,  and  pre* 
sented  itself  therein,  not  only  as  dreadworthy,  but  as  skill- 
ful and  imposing. 


S12  HISTORY  OF 

Let  us  now  consider  the  interior  of  France,  the  admin«» 
istration  and  legislation  of  Louis  XIV;  we  shall  there  dis- 
cern new  explanations  of  the  power  and  splendor  of  his 
government. 

It  is  difficult  to  determine  with  any  degree  of  precision 
what  we  ought  to  understand  by  administration  in  the 
government  of  a  state.  Nevertheless,  when  we  endeavor 
to  investigate  this  fact,  we  discover,  I  believe,  that,  undei 
the  most  general  point  of  view,  administration  consists  in 
an  aggregate  of  means  destined  to  propel,  as  promptly  and 
certainly  as  possible,  the  will  of  the  central  power  through 
all  parts  of  society,  and  to  make  the  force  of  society, 
whether  consisting  of  men  or  money,  return  again,  under 
the  same  conditions,  to  the  central  power.  This,  if  I 
mistake  not,  is  the  true  aim,  the  predominant  character- 
istic of  administration.  Accordingly  we  find  that  in  times 
when  it  is  above  all  things  needful  to  establish  unity  and 
order  in  society,  administration  is  the  chief  means  of  at- 
taining this  end,  of  biinging  together,  of  cementing,  and 
of  uniting  incoherent  and  scattered  elements.  Such,  in 
fact,  was  the  work  of  tlie  administration  of  Louis  XIV. 
Up  to  this  time,  there  had  been  nothing  so  difficult,  iu 
France  as  in  the  rest  of  Europe,  as  to  effect  the  penetra- 
tion of  the  action  of  the  central  power  into  all  parts  of 
society,  and  to  gather  into  the  bosom  of  the  central  power 
the  means  of  force  existing  in  society.  To  this  end  Louis 
XIV  labored,  and  succeeded,  up  to  a  certain  point;  incom- 
parably better,  at  least,  than  preceding  governments  had 
done.  I  cannot  enter  into  details:  just  run  over,  in. 
thought,  all  kinds  of  public  services,  taxes,  roads,  indus- 
try, military  administration,  all  the  establishments  which 
belong  to  whatsoever  branch  of  administration;  there  is 
scarcely  one  of  which  you  do  not  find  either  the  origin,  de- 
velopment, or  great  amelioration  under  Louis  XIV.  It 
was  as  administrators  that  the  srreates^  men  of  his  time. 


CIVILIZA TION  IN  EUROPE.  313 

Colbert  and  Louvois,  displayed  their  genius  and  exercised 
their  ministry.  It  was  by  the  excellence  of  its  administra- 
tion that  his  government  acquired  a  generality,  decision, 
and  consistency  which  were  wanting  to  all  the  European 
governments  around  him. 

Under  the  legislative  point  of  view  this  reign  presents  to 
you  the  same  fact.  I  return  to  the  comparison  which  I 
have  already  made  use  of,  to  the  legislative  activity  of  the 
consular  government,  to  its  prodigious  work  of  revising 
and  generally  recasting  the  laws.  A  work  of  the  same 
nature  took  place  under  Louis  XIV.  The  great  ordi^ 
nances  which  he  promulgated,  the  criminal  ordinances, 
the  ordinances  of  procedure,  commerce,  the  marine, 
waters,  and  woods,  are  true  codes,  which  were  constructed 
in  the  same  manner  as  our  codes,  discussed  in  the  council 
of  state,  some  of  them  under  the  presidency  of  Lamoignon. 
There  are  men  whose  glory  consists  in  having  taken  part  in 
this  labor  and  this  discussion,  M.  Pussort,  for  instance. 
If  we  were  to  consider  it  in  itself,  we  should  have  much  to 
say  against  the  legislation  of  Louis  XIV;  it  was  full  of 
vices,  which  now  fully  declare  themselves,  and  which  no 
one  can  deny;  it  was  not  conceived  in  the  interest  of  true 
justice  and  of  liberty,  but  in  the  interest  of  public  order, 
and  for  giving  more  regularity  and  firmness  to  the  laws. 
But  even  that  was  a  great  progress;  and  we  cannot  doubt 
but  that  the  ordinances  of  Louis  XIV,  so  very  superior  to 
anything  preceding  them,  powerfully  contributed  to  advance 
French  society  in  the  career  of  civilization. 

You  see  that  under  whatever  point  of  view  we  regard 
this  government,  we  very  soon  discover  the  source  of  its 
power  and  influence.  It  was  the  first  government  that 
presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of  Europe  as  a  power  sure  of  its 
position,  which  had  not  to  dispute  its  existence  with  inter- 
nal enemies — tranquil  as  to  its  dominions  and  the  people, 
and  intent  only  on  governing.     Up  to  that  time  all  Euro- 


314  BISTORT  OF 

pean  governments  had  been  unceasingly  thrown  into  wars, 
which  deprived  them  of  security  as  well  as  leisure,  or  had 
been  so  beset  with  parties  and  internal  enemies  that  they 
were  compelled  to  spend  their  time  in  fighting  for  their 
lives.  The  government  of  Louis  XIV  appeared  as  the  first 
which  applied  itself  solely  to  the  conduct  of  affairs,  a?  a 
j)ower  at  once  definitive  and  progressive;  which  w-as  not 
afraid  of  innovating,  because  it  could  count  upon  the  future. 
There  have,  in  fact,  existed  very  few  governments  of  such 
an  innovating  spirit.  Compare  it  with  a  government  of 
the  same  nature,  with  the  pure  monarchy  of  Philip  II  in 
Spain;  it  was  more  absolute  than  that  of  Louis  XIV,  and 
yet  far  less  regular  and  less  tranquil.  But  how  did  Philip 
II  succeed  in  establishing  absolute  power  in  Spain  ?  By 
stifling  the  activity  of  the  country,  by  refusing  to  it  every 
species  of  amelioration,  by  rendering  the  condition  of  Spain 
completely  stationary.  The  government  of  Louis  XIV,  on 
the  contrary,  showed  itself  active  in  all  kinds  of  innova- 
tions, favorable  to  the  progress  of  letters,  of  arts,  of  riches, 
and,  in  a  word,  of  civilization.  These  are  the  true  causes 
of  its  preponderance  in  Europe;  a  preponderance  such  that 
it  became  upon  the  continent,  during  the  whole  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  the  type  of  government,  not  only  for 
sovereigns,  but  even  for  nations. 

And  now  we  inquire — and  it  is  impossible  to  help  doing 
so — how  it  happened  that  a  power,  thus  brilliant,  and, 
judging  from  the  facts  which  I  have  placed  before  you, 
thus  well  established,  so  rapidly  fell  into  decline?  How, 
after  having  played  such  a  part  in  Europe,  it  became,  in 
the  next  centur},  so  inconsistent,  weak,  and  inconsiderable? 
The  fact  is  incontestable.  In  the  seventeenth  century  the 
French  government  was  at  the  head  of  European  civiliza- 
tion; in  the  eighteenth  century  it  disappeared;  and  it  was 
French  society,  separated  from  its  government,  often  even 
opposed  to  it,  that  now  preceded  and  guided  the  European 
world  in  its  progress. 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  315 

It  is  here  that  we  discover  the  incorrigible  evil  and  the 
infallible  effect  of  absolute  power.  I  will  not  go  into  any 
detail  concerning  the  faults  of .  the  government  of  Louis 
XIV;  he  committed  many;  I  will  speak  neither  of  the  war 
of  the  Spanish  succession,  nor  of  the  revocation  of  the 
edict  of  Nantes,  nor  of  excessive  expenses,  nor  of  many 
other  of  the  fatal  measures  that  compromised  his  fortunes.' 
I  will  take  the  merits  of  the  government  as  I  have  described 
them.  I  will  agree  that  perhaps  there  has  never  existed  an 
absolute  power  more  fully  recognized  by  its  age  and  nation, 
nor  one  which  has  rendered  more  real  services  to  the  civili- 
zation of  its  country  and  of  Europe  in  general.  But,  by 
the  very  fact  that  this  government  had  no  other  principle 
than  absolute  power,  and  reposed  upon  no  other  base  than 
this,  its  decline  became  sudden  and  well  merited.  What 
France,  under  Louis  XIV,  essentially  wanted,  was  political 
institutions  and  forces,  independent,  subsisting  of  them- 
selves, and,  in  a  word,  capable  of  spontaneous  action  and 
resistance.  The  ancient  French  institutions,  if  they  mer- 
ited that  name,  no  longer  existed:  Louis  XIV  completed 
their  ruin.  He  took  no  care  to  endeavor  to  replace  them 
by  new  institutions;  they  would  have  cramped  him,  and  he 
did  not  choose  to  be  cramped.  All  that  appeared  con- 
spicuous at  that  period  was  will,  and  the  action  of  central 
power.  The  government  of  Louis  XIV  was  a  great  fact,  a 
fact  powerful  and  splendid,  but  without  roots.  Free  insti-^ 
tutions  are  a  guarantee,  not  only  of  the  wisdom  of  govern- 
ments, but  also  of  their  duration.  No  system  can  endure 
except  by  means  of  institutions.  When  absolute  power  has 
endured,  it  has  been  supported  by  true  institutions,  some- 
times by  the  division  of  society  into  strongly  distinct  castes, 
sometimes  by  a  system  of  religious  institutions.  Under  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV  institutions  were  wanting  to  power  as  well 
as  to  liberty.  In  France,  at  this  period,  nothing  guaranteed 
either  the  country  against  the  illegitimate  actions  of  the 


316  BISTORT  OF 

government,  or  the  government  itself  against  the  inevitable 
action  of  time.  Thus  we  see  the  government  helping  on 
its  own  decay.  It  was  not  Louis  XIV  alone  who  was 
becoming  aged  and  weak  at  the  end  of  his  reign:  it  was  the 
whole  absolute  power.  Pure  monarchy  was  as  much  worn 
out  in  1712  as  was  the  monarch  himself:  and  the  evil  was 
so  much  the  more  grave,  as  Louis  XIV  had  abolished  polit- 
ical morals  as  well  as  political  institutions.  There  are  no 
political  morals  without  independence.  He  alone  who  feels 
that  he  has  a  strength  of  his  own  is  always  capable  either  of 
serving  or  opposing  power.  Energetic  characters  disappear 
with  independent  situations,  and  dignity  of  soul  alone 
gives  birth  to  security  of  rights. 

This,  then,  is  the  state  in  which  Louis  XIV  left  France 
and  power:  a  society  in  full  development  of  riches,  power 
and  all  kinds  of  intellectual  activity;  and  side  by  side  with 
this  progressive  society,  a  government  essentially  station- 
ary, having  no  means  of  renewing  itself,  of  adapting  itself 
to  the  movement  of  its  people;  devoted,  after  half  a  century 
of  the  greatest  splendor,  to  immobility  and  weakness, 
and  already,  during  the  life  of  its  founder,  fallen  into  a 
decline  which  seemed  like  dissolution.  Such  was  the  con- 
dition of  France  at  the  conclusion  of  the  seventeenth  cent- 
ury, a  condition  which  impressed  the  epoch  that  followed 
with  a  direction  and  a  character  so  different. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  the  onward  impulse  of  the  human 
mind,  that  free  inquiry  was  the  predominating  feature^  the 
essential  fact  of  the  eighteenth  century.  You  have  already 
heard  much  concerning  this  fact  from  this  chair;  already 
you  have  heard  that  powerful  epoch  characterized  by  a 
philosophical  orator,  and  by  that  of  an  eloquent  philoso- 
pher. I  cannot  pretend,  in  the  short  space  of  time  which 
remains  to  me,  to  trace  all  the  phases  of  the  great  moral 
revolution  which  then  accomplished  itself.  1  would^ 
nevertheless,  fain  not  leave  you  without  calling  your  atten- 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  317 

tion  to  some  characteristics  which  have  been  too  little 
remarked  upon. 

The  first — one  which  strikes  me  most,  and  which  I  have 
alread}''  mentioned — is  the,  so  to  speak,  almost  complete 
disappearance  of  the  government  in  the  course  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  the  appearance  of  the  human 
mind  as  the  principal  and  almost  the  only  actor. 

Except  in  that  which  is  connected  with  external  rela- 
tions under  the  ministry  of  the  Due  de  Choiseul,  and  in 
certain  great  concessions  made  to  the  general  tendency  of 
opinion,  for  instance,  in  the  American  war;  except,  I  say, 
in  some  events  of  this  nature,  perhaps  there  has  scarcely 
ever  been  so  inactive,  apathetic  and  inert  a  government  as 
was  the  French  government  of  this  period.  Instead  of  the 
energetic,  ambitious  government  of  Louis  XIV  which 
appeared  everywhere,  and  put  itself  at  the  head  of  every 
thing,  you  have  a  government  which  labored  only  to  hide 
itself,  to  keep  itself  in  the  background,  so  weak  and  com- 
promised did  it  feel  itself  to  be.  Activity  and  ambition 
had  passed  over  wholly  to  the  people.  It  was  the  nation 
which,  by  its  opinion  and  its  intellectual  movement, 
mingled  itself  with  all  things,  interfered  in  all,  and,  in 
short,  alone  possessed  moral  authority,  which  is  the  Z)nly 
true  authority. 

A  second  characteristic  which  strikes  me,  in  the 
condition  of  the  human  mind  in  the  eighteenth  cent- 
ury, is  the  universality  of  free  inquiry.  Up  to  that 
time,  and  particularly  in  the  seventeenth  century,  free 
inquiry  had  been  exercised  within  a  limited  and  partial 
field;  it  had  had  for  its  object  sometimes  religous 
questions,  sometimes  religious  and  political  questions 
together,  but  it  did  not  extend  its  pretensions  to  all  sub- 
jects. In  the  eighteenth  century,  on  the  contrary,  the 
character  of  free  inquiry  is  universality;  religion,  politics, 
pure  philosophy,  man   and    society,  moral  and   material 


318  EI8T0RT  OF 

nature,  all  at  the  same  time  became  the  object  of  study, 
douDt  and  system;  ancient  sciences  were  overturned,  new 
sciences  were  called  into  existence.  The  movement 
extended  itself  in  all  directions,  although  it  had  emanated 
from  one  and  the  same  impulse. 

This  movement,  moreover,  had  a  peculiar  character^ 
one  which,  perhaps,  is  not  to  be  met  elsewhere  in  the 
history  of  the  world:  it  was  purely  speculative.  Up  to 
that  time,  in  all  great  human  revolutions,  action  had  com- 
mingled itself  with  speculation.  Thus,  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  the  religious  revolution  began  with  ideas,  with 
purely  intellectual  discussions,  but  it  very  soon  terminated 
in  events.  The  heads  of  intellectual  parties  soon  became 
the  heads  of  political  parties;  the  realities  of  life  were 
mixed  with  the  labor  of  the  understanding.  Thus,  too, 
it  happened  in  the  seventeenth  century,  in  the  English 
revolution.  But  in  France,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  you 
find  the  human  spirit  exercising  itself  upon  all  things, 
upon  ideas  which,  connecting  themselves  with  the  real  in- 
terests of  life,  seemed  calculated  to  have  the  most  prompt 
and  powerful  influence  upon  facts.  Nevertheless,  the 
leaders  and  actors  of  these  great  discussions  remained  stran- 
gers to  all  species  of  practical  activity — mere  spectators, 
who  observed,  judged  and  spoke,  without  ever  interfering 
in  events.  At  no  other  time  has  the  government  of  facts,  of 
external  realities,  been  so  completely  distinct  from  the 
government  of  minds.  The  separation  of  the  spiritual  and 
temporal  orders  was  never  completely  real  in  Europe  until 
the  eighteenth  century.  For  the  first  time,  perhaps,  the 
spiritual  order  developed  itself  wholly  apart  from  the  tem- 
poral order;  an  important  fact,  and  one  which  exercised  a 
prodigious  influence  upon  the  course  of  events.  It  gave  to 
the  ideas  of  the  time  a  singular  character  of  ambition  and  in- 
experience; never  before  had  philosophy  aspired  so  strongly 
to  rule  the  world,  never  had  philosophy  been  so  little  ac- 


CIVILIZA  TION  IN  EUROPE.  319 

quainted  with  the  world.  It  became  obvious  that  a  day 
must  arrive  for  coming  to  facts;  for  the  intellectual  move- 
ment to  pass  into  external  events;  and  as  they  had  been 
totally  separated,  their  meeting  was  the  more  difficult,  the 
shock  far  more  violent. 

How  can  we  now  be  surprised  with  another  character  of 
the  condition  of  the  human  mind  at  this  epoch,  I  mean  its 
prodigious  boldness?  Up  to  that  time  its  greatest  activity 
had  always  been  confined  by  certain  barriers;  the  mind  of 
man  had  always  existed  amid  facts,  whereof  some  in- 
spired it  with  caution,  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  checked  its 
movements.  In  the  eighteenth  century,  I  should  be  at  a 
loss  to  say  what  external  facts  the  human  mind  respected, 
or  what  external  facts  exercised  any  empire  over  it;  it  hated 
or  despised  the  entire  social  state.  It  concluded,  therefore, 
that  it  was  called  upon  to  reform  all  things;  it  came  to  con- 
sider itself  a  sort  of  creator;  institutions,  opinions,  manners, 
society,  and  man  himself,  all  seemed  to  require  reform,  and 
human  reason  charged  itself  with  the  enterprise.  What 
audacity  equal  to  this  had  ever  before  been  imagined  by  it! 

Such  was  the  power  which,  in  the  course  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  confronted  what  still  remained  of  the 
government  of  Louis  XIV.^  You  perceive  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  avoid  the  occurrence  of  a  shock  between  these 
two  so  unequal  forces.  The  predominant  fact  of  the  Eng- 
glish  revolution,  the  struggle  between  free  inquiry  and  pure 
monarchy,  was  now  also  to  burst  forth  in  France.  No 
doubt  the  differences  were  great,  and  these  necessarily  per- 
petuated themselves  in  the  results;  but,  at  bottom,  the 
general  conditions  were  similar,  and  the  definitive  event 
had  the  same  meaning. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  exhibit  the  infinite  consequences  of 
this  struggle.  The  time  for  concluding  this  course  of 
lectures  has  arrived;  I  must  check  myself.  I  merely  desire, 
before  leaving  you,  to  call  your  attention  to  the  most  grave. 


320  HISTORY  OF 

and,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  instructive  fact  which  was 
revealed  to  us  by  this  great  struggle.  This  is  the  danger, 
the  evil,  and  the  insurmountable  vice  of  absolute  power, 
whatever  form,  whatever  name  it  may  bear,  and  toward 
whatever  aim  it  may  direct  itself.  You  have  seen  that  the 
government  of  Louis  XIV  perished  by  almost  this  cause 
only.  Well,  the  power  which  succeeded  it,  the  human 
mind,  the  true  sovereign  of  the  eighteenth  century,  suffered 
the  same  fate;  in  its  turn,  it  possessed  an  almost  absolute 
power;  it,  in  its  turn,  placed  an  excessive  confidence  in 
itself.  Its  onward  impulse  was  beautiful,  good,  most, 
useful;  and  were  it  necessary  that  I  should  express  a  de- 
finitive opinion,  I  should  say  that  the  eighteenth  century 
appears  to  me  to  have  been  one  of  the  greatest  ages  of  his- 
tory, that  which,  perhaps,  has  done  the  greatest  services 
for  humanity,  that  which  has  in  the  greatest  degree  aided 
its  progress,  and  rendered  that  progress  of  the  most  general 
character:  were  I  asked  to  pronounce  upon  it  as  a  public 
administration,  I  should  pronounce  in  its  favor.  But  it 
is  not  the  less  true  that,  at  this  epoch,  the  human 
mind,  possessed  of  absolute  power,  became  corrupted 
and  misled  by  it;  holding  established  facts  and  former 
ideas  in  an  illegitimate  disdarn  and  aversion;  an  aver- 
sion which  carried  it  into  error  and  tyranny.  The 
share  of  error  and  tyranny,  indeed,  which  mingled 
itself  with  the  triumph  of  human  reason,  at  the  end  of 
this  century,  a  portion  which  we  cannot  conceal  from  our-' 
selves,  was  very  great  and  which  we  must  proclaim  and  not 
deny;  this  portion  of  error  and  tyranny  was  chiefly  the 
result  of  the  extravagance  into  which  the  mind  of  man  had 
been  thrown,  at  this  period,  by  the  extension  of  his  power. 
It  is  the  duty,  and,  I  believe,  it  will  be  the  peculiar 
merit  of  our  times,  to  know  that  all  power,  whether  intel- 
lectual or  temporal,  whether  belonging  to  governments  or 
people,  to  philosophers  or  ministers,  whether  exercising 


CIVILIZATION  IN  EUROPE.  321 

itself  in  one  cause  or  in  another,  bears  within  itself  a 
natural  vice,  a  principle  of  weakness  and  of  abuse  which 
ought  to  render  it  limited.  Now  nothing  but  the  genei'al 
freedom  of  all  rights,  all  interests  and  all  opinions,  the 
free  manifestation  and  legal  co-existence  of  all  these  forces, 
can  ever  restrain  each  force  and  each  power  within  its  legiti- 
mate limits,  prevent  it  from  encroaching  on  the  rest,  and, 
in  a  word,  cause  the  real  and  generally  profitable  existence 
of  free  inquiry.  Herein  consists  for  us  the  grand  lesson  of 
the  struggle  which  occurred  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  between  absolute  temporal  power  and  absolute 
spiritual  power. 

I  have  now  arrived  at  the  term  which  I  proposed  to 
myself.  You  remember  that  my  object  in  commencing 
this  course  was  to  present  you  with  a  general  picture  of 
the  development  of  European  civilization,  from  the  fall  of 
the  Eoman  Empire  to  our  own  days.  I  have  traversed  this 
career  very  rapidly  and  without  being  able  to  inform  you, 
far  from  it,  of  all  that  was  important,  or  to  bring  proofs  of 
all  that  I  have  said.  I  have  been  compelled  to  omit  much 
and  often  to  request  you  to  believe  me  upon  my  word.  I 
hope,  nevertheless,  that  I  have  attained  my  aim,  which  was 
to  mark  the  grand  crisis  in  the  development  of  modern 
society.     Allow  me  yet  one  word  more. 

I  endeavored,  in  the  beginning,  to  define  civilization  and 
to  describe  the  fact  which  bears  this  name.  Civilization 
seemed  to  me  to  consist  of  two  principal  facts:  the  develop- 
ment of  human  society  and  that  of  man  himself;  on 
the  one  hand,  political  and  social  development;  on  the 
other,  internal  and  moral  development.  I  have  confined 
myself  so  far  to  the  history  of  society.  I  have  presented 
civilization  only  under  the  social  point  of  view;  and  have 
said  nothing  of  the  development  of  man  himself.  I  have 
not  endeavored  to  unfold  to  you  the  history  of  opinions,  of 
the  moral  progress  of  humanity.     I  propose,  when  we  meei 


323  HISTORY  OF 

again,  to  confine  myself  especially  to  France,  to  study  with 
you  the  history  of  French  civilization,  to  study  it  in  detail 
and  under  its  various  aspects.  I  shall  endeavor  to  make 
you  acquainted,  not  only  with  the  history  of  society  in 
France,  but  also  with  that  of  man;  to  be  present  with  you 
at  the  progress  of  institutions,  of  opinions  and  of  intellect- 
ual works  of  all  kinds;  and  to  arrive  thus  at  a  complete 
understanding  of  the  development  of  our  glorious  country 
ai  its  entirety.  In  the  past,  as  well  as  in  the  future,  oui 
country  may  well  lay  claim  to  our  tenderest  affectiona 


[the  end.] 


Ill  I  II  III  I     will  III,    iiii     niiKii       ■III  III  ii.iiiiii.i  jiii»jiimm;i— n  niiiiiM  , .    M.i.i    III  I.    II  I  I  I       mi     i)  ill  i  iiif  ii 


14  DAY  USE 

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